The green in the mirror

~Priotese Sebastian~
~In loving memory of Peter Steele~

I was born in the late Pleistocene age and I've been thawed out in 1971. I was raised a devout
catholic until I was barred from my own communion for gross flatulence. I discovered I could write
songs upon my 1987 release from Kings County psychiatric ward after three weeks of observation for
attempting to commit suicide with plastic eating ustensils. In 1989 I formed Type O Negative. I have
written the band's original demo for the sole reason of winning back an old girlfriend that had left me
for a sanitation worker, but the tapes somehow got my band a record contract.
Shortly after signing I was promptly arrested during my 1990 colostomy operation when the
surgeon discovered 186 lbs of low grade undigested beef and half of a female femur bone in my large
intestine. After my release from prison I was forced to leave my beloved job at New York City Parks
Department to go on tour with Type O. I can sometimes be sighted raking leaves and removing litter
from truck stops and hotel parking lots across the country.
I feel the need to pen down the truth about me, for the paragraphs above show only that funny
reflection of myself, that infamous self-deprecating sense of humor of mine, if you like. My depression
is getting more and more dangerous, I dream of dying more than ever before and it seems that cocaine
has no effect on me anymore. I can't forget that Halloween night, when I've hit the rock bottom hard as
hell you know, when you're two meters and four centimeters high, the fall inevitably is to the bottom.
I have always loved Halloween I loved it as much as I loved Grizzelda, Weena, Tito and Nixon 1.
And yeah, why not, Elizabeth2. It's magical and so colorful, and as lush as October Rust our third
album and amongst my favorites. Those children trick-or-treating their way on Brooklyn's streets, the
pumpkins that laugh maniacally in the night spreading that burnt, sweet scent, its melancholy, all these
make this holiday priceless, though it fills me with very painful memories. Very few of you know what
happened on All Hallows Eve in 1991, when I began writing music for Bloody Kisses. No one knows
the price I had to pay for that record to receive the very fist gold and platinum certification on
Roadrunner Records. It still haunts me, and that can be clearly seen on most of Type O Negative's
songs, in those excruciatingly slow rhythms and Josh's haunting keyboards arrangements. I wouldn't
have been able to transgress my feelings into music without this jew's talent, and he knows that. Let me
tell you what had happened that Halloween, until cocaine takes my mind away and I turn again to the
razorblade and smile foolishly to my veins.
I was walking through the Bensonhurst Cemetery that Halloween night; I found her grave and fell
on it on my knees, crying like a child. It was surreal: those colored leaves falling from the trees, the
dim lights of the candles, the withered flowers on her grave I felt her in the surroundings, I heard her
breathing in the night, I felt her kiss upon my cheek. My hair was like glued to my face, thus, I saw like
through bars, like a metaphor for the mundane cage I was trapped into. I couldn't believe she was gone.
I could hear children laughing, scaring each other on the streets, screaming, laughing, gagging and
laughing again, and oh, how beautiful was everything! A group of children supervised by two teens
passed through the cemetery and seeing me there, they encircled me, and I laughed for they were so
beautiful. And this reminded me of the scene in the movie The Crow. You know, that when Draven's
laughing as those kids run on that deserted street. I was more monstrous than Draven, for sure. My
natural vampire teeth didn't scare the kids, to my amazement. In fact, they laughed even harder,
probably thinking they were fake, I couldn't explain it another way. A two meters high vampire, that
must be quite a sight on Halloween night, right? A vampire in such a decrepit borough as Brooklyn.

1 Peter's cats.
2 The woman which cheated on him and made him slash his wrists in 1989.
The kids danced around me for a while and departed, leaving me pray to her haunting, all alone in the
cemetery, on All Hollows Eve. It was too much for me, for everything was so lovely and only reminded
me of her, the one that now rested in velvet six feet under the ground. A thin blanket of green mist
swept over the tombstones and floated above her grave and in the rustle of the leaves I heard:
'Why did you kill me, Pete? Why did you do that?'. At first, I thought I was dreaming, but then her
voice came again: Pete, why did you do that? Wasn't I your most beloved, Pete? I'll rip your flesh off
your bones, Pete. I was petrified with fear, and I began running to the cemetery gate through the
swirling green fog, stumbling and falling, for my feet were numb and I was paralyzed with terror. I
slammed the iron gate in my desperate fugue and entered Milestone Park it was gushing with troops
of children and parents alike, all masked, all wearing scary makeup and carrying pumpkins and
candles. I was still so shocked that I got terrified even by them, as harmless as they were. I left the
park, trying to slacken my gait, looking like a huge fool with robotic moves. I quitted Milestone Park as
fast as I could, and went straight home, locked the door and crumbled beside it; I took my head into the
palms of my hands and a torrent of hot tears fell from my eyes. I felt somehow enraged that I could be
scared so badly, I was ashamed of myself, of course, I've been ashamed of myself my entire life, but
now that shame turned into deep hatred for myself. I raised up from the floor and went on the sofa. I
made four lines of cocaine on the glass table and inhaled them greedily, and I started feeling somewhat
more relaxed. I began laughing like a madman - Tonight, I've been scared by a voice in the cemetery,
ya know? Goil, I've been scared by a voice, on Halloween night! Can you believe that?!. Laughing as
such I went to the bathroom, turned the water on and washed my face, pushing so hard my hands into
my skin as if I had something crawling beneath it. I raised up my head from the cold stream of water
and I almost blacked out. Something was looking at me from the mirror a person as tall as me, with
the same long jet-black hair, green eyes, a perfect impersonator of myself, but grotesque. Its face was a
mess of rotten flesh, its eyes burned with a satanic green lustre, and it just stood there and smiled at me
with a pair of meatless lips.
'Why did you kill her, eh?, it asked calmly. I couldn't respond, for I was literally frozen. I felt
repulsion, fear and disgust, yet at the same time funny as hell, probably because of the cocaine I had
just took.
'Why did you kill her, Pete? Wasn't she your most beloved, Pete?', asked the reflection again, as
calmly as it did the first time.
'I didn't kill anyone, you fucker', I replied at last, more amused than frighted. The hell are you? A
Halloween prank or something?'.
'Yes, Pete. I'm a Halloween prank, Jolly Green Giant! Why did you kill her, Pete?'. I'll make a
paranthesis here, if you don't mind: a little piece of advice to the Pepsi generation: don't waste your life
on drugs, don't throw your life and mind away. Mine was already on the threshold of death, and,
because I was so drugged that I could barely stay on my own feet, the persistent reflection in the mirror
and its question started to frighten me. Though frighten may be a quite light word for what I started
to feel looking at it how it looked at me with that calm disdain. I replied numerous times that I didn't
kill anyone in my life, though I had attempted to take a look at the gray matter of the guy my girlfriend
cheated on me with, by delicately dissecting his skull with an axe. But, being a reasonable person, I
ended up drinking like a pig and attempting suicide, by slashing my wrists, though not deep enough.
'Veeenus, Veeeenus', whispered the reflection, staring right into my eyes and slamming its bloody
face on the surface of the mirror on the rhythm of its whispering, reddening it. The green mist I ran
through in the cemetery was there, too, swirling around the rotten corpse. An utter feeling of doom
crumbled over me when I heard the name Venus. I tried to move, but I was terrified. I could barely
breathe.
'Venus misses you, Pete. Yeah, Venus misses you. She waits for you, Pete. A death in the family,
Pete, and it's on you. Yeah, right on you!'. I tried to look away, aloof from the ghastly appearance, but I
couldn't. From nowhere, a syringe appeared in its hand and, straightening its arm, it began to thrust its
rusty needle into its veins, with bestiality, savagery, still slamming its head on the mirror, looking at me
with a pair of bloodshot eyes.
'Veeeenus...', said again, and I screamed from the bottom of my lungs. And it laughed from the same
origin. A cold laugh which sent a cold crest of icy needles along my spine and raised the hair on my
head. I could never explain how it is to experience something like that. For you, it may seem surreal,
but I lived that fully.
'You killed her, you dumbfuck! You killed her!'. I crashed to the ground, beating my temples with
my fists, begging the revenant to shut up, and yelling to it that I didn't kill anyone at all in all my life.
The reflection in the image flared suddenly, as a black cat with a white snout entered the bathroom,
walking solemnly. The green image of that hideous me started to scream and was caught up by flames
of the same color. And I screamed too, seeing the cat, and fainted.
I'm not really sure what happened back then, and maybe I never will, but that is haunting me still.
Our saddest and most ominous songs are inspired by that strange happening, though I am the only one
that knew the real version of the story. Josh had suspected something, but I never told him about it. It
marked me for life, and up to this day I am not sure whether it was a mirage created by the drug abuse
or something real. But back then, it felt very, very real, I can assure you that. And the image of that
reflection bumping its head on the mirror, staining it with blood is deeply carved in my memory.
Mark my words, never do drugs. Don't waste your life away in vain...You have many things to
accomplish before paying the price for your life that is turning back to wherefrom you came. I deeply
regret this decision of doing drugs...At the age of 35, can you believe it?! How stupid can I be?!
Many songs on many albums have been about that particular Halloween. I never visited Bensonhurst
Cemetery ever since, and in general, avoided passing near it. I am Peter Steele, and Venus was mine.
Another furry Venus.

~Rest in peace, Jolly Green Giant...~