I presently live in Chicago and produce our television series Abductions With the Alter Boy under the alias Michael Anthony. I also work on developing CyberScope Wizards.
I worked at a place called Rising Star, Ltd. for about two years as a Computer Specialist.
I graduated from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in 1981. I went to work for them a year later as an Instructional Technician in their Video Area, eventually teaching classes.
Our family moved to Berwyn, a suburb of Chicago, in 1970.
I recall a very strong imprint from the early sixties. Either a dream or a television show, not sure which, possibly left me with my fascination for the human skeleton. It seemed a show, the end of an episode of perhaps Boris Karlov's Thriller in which a skeleton rises from a dark liquid pit, set in some dark house or castle. There people gathered in the room fear the skeleton comes for them. During the rising scary music, an actor that makes me think now of Donald Pleasence says: "It comes for me now, next it will come for you." referring to the other man in the scene but having a veiled reference to the possibility it comes for the viewer next. Very creepy, very primal. 7/10/93
In elementary school I would attempt to push my antennae out of my head like the Uncle Martin character from the TV show My Favorite Martian. I tried very hard to push them up. I wanted to be an alien from another planet or future time. I wanted to be different. It seemed around that time that I felt I received hidden messages through coincidences. I had not yet heard of the word synchronicity, but I began to notice them back then. My mother took us to church a lot and the doctrine of Biblical Prophecy gave me the idea that perhaps some mighty intelligence sent me messages. Perhaps I balanced this idea out with the notion that the messages may come from the devil so I should ignore them, but it seemed to me the devil did not have that much power. I kept an open mind to the signals. 1-26-01, 2-5-01
When I was very young and growing up in a Fundamentalist Christian church, in Sunday School they would constantly want us to pray the little prayer that would save us for Jesus. They would encourage us to pray something like: "Jesus, I know I'm a sinner and need to be saved. Please come into my heart and live with me forever more".
Now, I wanted to be saved, and I prayed the prayer many times. I certainly didn't want to end up in the bad place, but I had my doubts even as a child. To begin with, the first times I prayed, I didn't feel anything. The teachers said it wasn't about feeling something, it was about faith. I didn't think I was saved, however, until I did feel something. I had my first little epiphany in church during a sermon by Pastor Wager that was dealing with the rejection of Jesus by the Jerusalem priests and cried as I thought to myself: "Why did they kill him? Why did they kill him?"
My unbelief was still with me however, and I can remember way back then imagining the writers of the Bible as a bunch of criminals like the ones on The Untouchables crime show, sitting upstairs in a small hotel room, laughing to each other as the repercussions of their Bible joke spread far and wide. It was quite odd to realize later that this scenario may not have been that far off the mark. Constantine the Great, the Roman emperor who made a deal with the early church which resulted in, among other things, the consolidation of his power, seems an interesting synchronistic mafia kingpin. 12/15/92, 2-25-01, 8-23-02
I looked through many notebooks to find the record of my earliest memory. I thought I wrote it down somewhere. I remember the back of our landlord's son's head with our Chicago apartment's stair stoop. The image in my mind hardly exists anymore, I mostly only remember the description now. 1-27-01, 2-4-01
My mother Martha told me she bore me on January 27, 1958 anno Domini at 5:15 post meridiem Central Standard Time in the little town of Huntington, in one of the United States of America: Tennessee. They gave me the names Michael and Anthony. Montague served as my first last name. I never met my biological father Grady Montague. Martha told me they had married, but she caught him committing adultery in an automobile. He performed music, you see. Martha, enraged, moved my half brother Buddy and I to Chicago before I knew it. She married my stepfather Emil Bohacz in 1960. A year later she bore my half brother Monte.
In the beginning, you read this sentence. You might disagree, but you still probably read this sentence. You might think the beginning stretches back into time far, far away, further than you can begin to imagine. You've heard stories about it, you might believe one of these stories to "be" true and therefore encapsulate a vision of the beginning in your reference system, but I think the whole thing began with this sentence.
2-10-01, 3-21-01