October is here…full of cinnamon winds and long shadows. But before we get to the rejuvenating revelry and the weirdest month…I just read a web comic. It’s a strip, warning kids about what Halloween “really” is. Here’s the link: DEVIL’S NIGHT

Go ahead…read it. I feel a rant coming on and my words won’t make as much sense otherwise…

…read it? OK. I’m just going to ramble (but I’ll try to do it with a modicum of eloquence)…

FEAR isn’t a good emotion with which to base an important decision on (spiritual or temporal). And yet that’s what the pamphlet uses as it’s medium. Sudden, paranoid fear – not using positive emotions of love or enlightenment to draw folk to it, but more like “evil things are going to get you…quick…jump in…don’t think about it…”

What’s more, it uses the fear of children, particularly vulnerable to boogie-man and guilt tactics (very adult). Now…I won’t take this journal to go ahead and say the devil is a boogey man and doesn’t exist. What I mean are these comic book’s “boogie-man” tactics of conjuring, in the minds eye, monsters and demons behind every shadow, every piece of candy, every costume. I’ll give example –

The girls talk about all the “witches” that sacrifice animals and children in order to cast rituals to serve Satan (never mind that animal sacrifices play a part in Christian/Judeo theology…and, as I recall, almost one human sacrifice). I can’t say that sacrifices never happen (I can’t account for the statistics of the occasional crazy). However, it is not the main course of the merriment celebrated by those who celebrate Halloween. Most towns (my own included) have their vague stories of a dog or a cat that got sacrificed not so long ago (it’s always a year or two ago…no matter how many years later you hear the tale). When every town has a similar tale, always witnessed by someone who knew someone (the person you talk to is never the one to have seen it), it’s usually an urban legend (these follow the same basic laws of word of mouth physics as old fables and fairy tales of the old country). This comic “boogey-man’s” these common urban stories by just stating that it does in fact, happen and happen often. State something like that (especially an urban myth) as factually as that and then someone says, “yeah…that happened to a friend of mine” or “I read that in the New York Times (they probably never did…but they think they remember reading it somewhere and so just say that rather than explain further….or maybe a relative said they read it there, but never did…and so on…and you see where facts leave the picture quickly).

Now throw in children always disappear before every Halloween and that they are surely sacrificed by Halloween Witches. Now…let’s take this sentence apart with a critical thinking scalpel. First…what facts does the writer of this comic have? He knows that children disappear before Halloween. OK. He assumes what happens to them…so lets cut that piece off (snip). Now…let’s take the actual fact. It is true, children do disappear before every Halloween. However, it omits part of the truth. Children disappear before every Halloween because children disappear every freaking month! It happens all the time and it is usually a separated parent who wants custody or a pervert…no rituals…no devil worship.

This use of a half-fact only serves as a prelude to the writer’s research. Religious recruiters can’t always be bothered with good research (faith being the important thing). The little girls in the comic discuss the pagan rituals of “old England.” One girl mentions that there was a night (proto-Halloween) where the souls of the dead come back and terrorize their poor, godless family members. The writer is correct, there are many such nights in many such cultures. What he did not look up (or purposefully omitted) is that in almost all cultures that have a day that dead family members come back to visit their family – it is a celebration of happiness, either the dead come back as guardian angels to protect family members or share wisdom or it gives family a chance to remember what was lost. The writer uses his bit of Christian-Logic™ that says that if it isn’t a Christian ritual it is bad – so of course the spirits of the dead came back terrorize the families (why else would they?). The writer doesn’t take into account how many of these cultures don’t have the same fearful look at the dead and death (funny…since Christianity is supposed to be about paradise awaiting one after life, that they should fear the dead so much). In fact, many Latin cultures celebrate the Day of the Dead (which is pretty much what I described above) and they are very Catholic (notice no dissected cats). The writer’s research resembles the fact gathering of an unscrupulous media reporter – grab just enough facts that are juicy…don’t concern yourself with the ones that weigh down the story or make it less captivating.

Also note that part of Halloween comes from a Christian practice (many Christian rituals, being derived from older pagan ones) of dressing up like saints and angels (sometimes devils) and walking about the town.

There are also a sprinkling of statements for added fun. “Halloween pulls kids into witchcraft.” You are reading the journal of the BIGGEST fan of Halloween in the free world and I have never (and never plan to) sacrifice a cat or child…I have many friends who like Halloween and I don’t know one witch, let alone the animal sacrificing kind. Of course, I like Halloween which means I’m a witch which means I’m certainly lying about this…in fact, that child abduction you read about last week was me…the thing about a separated father nabbing the kid was just a clever cover story placed by high ranking Satanists…and that cat that used to wander around your town, the one that disappeared, I cut it up with a razor while singing backwards Beatle’s lyrics, naked, my body covered in Lime Jell-O (Bill Cosby is also a Satanist).

I like how the comic lumps spiders along with demons and ghosts as “ugly” things (an eight legged, living creature…and who created those?).

Now the comic ends with a choice: A and B (no other options) either you follow Jesus or you celebrate Halloween and worship the Devil. It leaves out the logic leap of why celebrating Halloween worships the devil. It gives the bible quote that says you should believe in Jesus…but there’s no quote saying Halloween is evil (not unless you mean indirectly and with a nice stretch of interpretation). Well of course someone is going to choose A and not the Devil. But that is the psychology of the question. Ask it straight away and forcefully, make the choice now. Look in what’s in my hands (and not behind my back). Never mind the logic jump. Tell them what you want them to see…

I know a little something about magic tricks, sleight of hand, pick pocketing and the strategy of the con. The interesting thing, for me, about all those activities is that the fundamentals and philosophy are the same – palming, misdirection, showing point A and C so audience doesn’t even see point B, sizing up a mark. It’s all the same, whether you’re vanishing a quarter, making someone look the other way, taking their belt, convincing them of something that didn’t’ happen, or leading around an impressionable mind. It’s interesting that the same tactics (at there base form) work well with certain types of evangelism.

The same people, usually will tell you that the Devil’s greatest trick was convincing man that he does not exist. I say the devil’s best trick is over convincing people he’s real, until they see him behind every decision, shadow, and impulse, every enjoyment – until they are made to hate their base, “animal,” selves. When fear and self-hate become theology…that’s when the arch-demon laughs his truly satisfied cackle.

I’ve never been a fan of “that thing simply IS evil” side of spiritualism. I was fed it, as a boy, by my grandmother (who, despite this rant, I love deeply). This was evil and that was evil and never mind why. For example:

“Grandma can buy that board game?”
”No, it’s fantasy…that’s magic and devil worship. That’s evil.”
“But I don’t understand…it doesn’t do anyone any harm.”
“That’s how the devil works dear.”

Never mind that modern fantasy, as a genre, owes most of its existence to J.R.R. Tolkien who was himself a MEGA Christian and who helped C.S. Lewis (one of the biggest Christian authors and intellectuals of the 20th century) to come back to Christianity as an adult.

By this “evil contracts through cooties” theory, I can convince someone in turn that a bicycle with a banana seat is evil:

“You can’t ride that bike anymore…it’s evil and witchcraft.”
“But Josh, it doesn’t seem evil…I just ride the bike…it doesn’t cause harm.”
“That’s how the Devil works. It seems innocent and doesn’t cause any apparent harm…but all the while Satan is shooting evil up your rectum.”
“But…I like riding my bike. I really enjoy it.”
“Pleasure is tainted – the Devil is only tempting you with the enjoyment you feel. But I guess…I’ll just leave it up to you. It’s your choice. Is riding your bike more important than God? Choose. Either ride your bike or believe in Jesus.”

You’ll note I was brought up Catholic and we are the UNDISPUTED masters of the guilt trip.

No…for me I think evil is as evil does. Yes, evil can be a subtle influence (that first hit of coke…that first crime…etc.), but real evil is actual evil. Genocide, rape, and torture are evil…a pumpkin with a candle in it is not evil, certinly not “just because.”

But it brings us back to the con. The magic trick. The writer sized up his mark, children, and they are indeed an open target. Then the misdirection, the palming, and the snatch and he makes kids afraid and guilty of a very innocent and childlike thing – running around, with friends, in funny clothes, collecting candy. A comic strip that speaks out against an “ugly” holiday of “fear” by using fear tactics itself.

I will say this for the comic though…it had one pretty positive thing in it. The girls decide to give trick or treaters little comic strips explaining their stance. They turned a perceived negative into a positive. A very healthy tactic and outlook…but the only one I saw in the whole piece. Of course those were comics passed out to scare other little kids into religion…

Ah…but this is NOT a rant against Christianity or religion (despite appearances). Some of the best Halloween parties I’ve had were at my old church. One of the wisest men I knew was a priest. It’s more a rant against those who value faith to the total exclusion of common sense or critical thought. One without the other is like a kid playing with a gun and both cases, eventually leads to someone (maybe the user or someone standing next to them) to loose their brains

Ah…but this subject is making me bitter…being bitter makes me blunter, less clever. I’m at my best with sarcasm, laughter, and sardonic grins. Better to ridicule and laugh at the evils we perceive. It was in fact, Martin Luther who said:

“The bet way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn.”

And it was Thomas More who said:

“The devil…the prowde spirite…cannot endure to be mocked.”

So on that note…go out and have a fun Halloween! Put on some horns and laugh at the devil instead of hiding in your home afraid of evil candy.

This was where I was going to list the schedule of fun events coming up this month…but this post is already way too freaking long (so I’ll do it in my next post). Speaking of which, Rich (and fellow Eureka folk) we need to pick a night to watch scary movies in Pritchard with that wonderful new TV.

OK. Goodnight folks.

I’m going to go sacrifice a cat…

…hope they have more grape flavored ones…

Oh sweet vindication, thy name is SHORT FICTION WRITING CLASS!

I haven’t been posting as regularly…so let’s make this a meaty one.

First of all, tonight’s writing class went well (they usually do). Some may recall (several posts back) that I recently completed a short story (for class) that I had not been able to get down on paper (at least in total) for at least two years (a monstrous merging of Poe, Oedipus Rex, and Jerry Springer). Well…when you make something like that and finally force yourself to shove it on paper…you retain doubts after handing it in. But I got it back today…and received 100% (the second one I’ve gotten in my college writing career)! Now…high grades aren’t anything new in this class (we’re only there because the teacher likes our writing anyway). But 100 percent on a subjective thing…well…I think I deserve a little smile. I read back on the story…and I do like it (a relief)…I hadn’t touched it since I turned it in. I think it’s the most messed up story I’ve written.

Then we had some exorcises. It had to do with perspective. It involved three steps, three paragraphs, each taking on a new perspective of the same event [you kids can get out your pens and play along at home].

First paragraph – write a first person account of either a sporting event or a car accident. I decided to do both…

My first thought as the glass splinters and screams, is, “My eyes!” My second thought is, “What just caused this accident? A meteor from the sky? The hand of God?” My third thought, as I look at the light pole now enveloped in the indented mouth where the engine used to live, is, “I’m alive.” My fourth thought is relief at having my second thought answered by the homerun baseball I spy imbedded in what is left of my windshield, and knowing, even though the radio was battered beyond commission, that the Cubs were ahead by one run.

Second paragraph – write about the first paragraph, from a different perspective…

I used to like to squish people’s heads. It’s easy! You just close one eye and pinch two fingers together whenever a person goes by. But I’m nine years old today so I thought I should get a promotion. I wanted to squish a car. I used my whole hand. A car came by and my hand squeezed. Then BAM! It crashed and some one screamed and I cried and cried and cried…my mom asked me what was wrong and when I was ready to talk I promised never to squish another head ever again.

Third paragraph – write about the same incident, from a second hand account…

I gotta get off this beat. An accident. OK. I get there. No one’s hurt. Good. But this guy…this guy’s car is totaled and he’s smiling like a cat that just pissed on your pillow. Car’s ruined but he’s grinnin’ all Cheshire. Go Cubs. Well it’s a mess a big freaking obstacle in the way of everyone leaving Wriggly and it’s hours and hours of mess. Might not have been as bad except this kid kept crying to me, confessing to five, maybe six counts of head squashing. I gotta get off this beat.

In Lenore news, I’ve finally tamed the beast. Took a little patience and careful rearing of this now delicate creature, but my little indigo snake is OK with being held. She never tried to bite or anything…but she definitely saw me as a predator (which most hatchling reptiles do). Now she doesn’t care, sits in my hands, explores the oddities of my room. She’s fun and very alert and attentive and has the closest thing to a personality that I’ve seen in any snake.

Another thing about owning indigos, about rearing an endangered animal. It puts you in a sort of status bracket for those in the know. People with snakes constricting the brain. It would be spooky if I didn’t get a thrill out of it. But every pet shop I go to, inevitably, there is a guy/gal who obviously knows more about reptiles than some of the other employees and they ask me what I’m purchasing dead mice for. I’m always tempted to say for my own personal use…but I tell the truth. Then, there eyes widen with the respect you give to some old kunfu master with a long white beard and they go, “Wooooow.”

It’s weird…then they give you knowing looks every time you walk into their shops. It’s like FIGHT CLUB…I expect to bring my stuff to the cashier and them saying, “No sir…on the house…your money is no good here.”

At Petco there is a cute cashier with blue eyes…and she’s real impressed. “I’m real impressed,” she said, “I’m really into snakes…I know.” Thump-thump goes the heart. And I find myself going to Petco more regularly than the other places and though I tell myself that the reason is because they always have frozen mice on sale…the real reason is more likely two and blue.

And……….oh…….fine……..I filled out that questionere thing going ‘round everyone’s journals. That is…if you’re still with me.

Have you ever . . .
(X) been drunk
(_) vomited because of it
(X) kissed a member of the opposite sex
(_) kissed a member of the same sex
(_) crashed a friend’s car
(_) been to Japan
(X) ridden in a taxi
(X) been in love
(X) been dumped
(_) gone streaking
(X) shoplifted
(X) been fired
(X) been in a fist fight
(_) snuck out of my parent’s house
(X) watched a porno
(X) made out Spiderman style
(_) ever had a crush on someone of the same sex
(_) ever dated someone of the same sex
(X) had feelings for someone who didnt have them back
(_) been involved in an affair
(_) been arrested
(X) gotten a stranger’s number
(_) made out with a stranger
(_) stole something from my job
(_) celebrated new years in time square
(_) gone on a blind date
(X) lied to a friend
(X) had a crush on a teacher
(_) celebrated mardi-gras in new orleans
(X) been to Europe
(X) skipped school
(_) slept with a co-worker
(_) cut myself on purpose
(_) accidentally or purposefully shot someone with a BB gun
(_) been married
(_) gotten divorced
(_) had children
(_) seen someone die
(_) broken a bone
(_) recieved stitches
(X) been to Africa (I knew it would be worth it!!!)
(X) had a crush on one of my Live journal friends
(_) Punched a friend
(X) Driven over 400 miles to attend a show/festival/fetish ball
(_) Been to Canada
(_) Been to Mexico
(X) Been on a plane
(X) Seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show
(_) Thrown up in a bar
(_) Purposely set a part of myself on fire
(_) Eaten Sushi
(_) Been snowboarding
(X) Met someone in person from the internet
(X) Been moshing at a concert
(_) had real feelings for someone you knew only online
(_) taken partially nude/nude photos of yourself
(_) been in an abusive relationship
(_) been pregnant or got someone pregnant
(_) lost a child

UNIQUE —

1. Nervous Habits? I bit me nails. I pace…but that is not a nervous habit (I do it when I’m at ease).
2. Are you double jointed? No
3. Can you roll your tongue? I think so…
4. Can you raise one eyebrow at a time? Yes, I can play jump rope with it as well.
5. Can you blow spit bubbles? Yes…it got me into grad school.
6. Can you cross your eyes? Yes
7. Tattoos? No (I’m too fickle…a week later I’d be like, “Shit! I knew I should have gotten a transformer…I knew it. Oh Optimus Prime!!!”)
8. Piercings? No.
9. Do you make your bed daily? No, that would waste too much lumber.

— CLOTHES —

10. Which shoe goes on first? The third shoe….oh…I’ve said too much…
11. Speaking of shoes, have you ever thrown one at anyone? Yes. Mimes.
12. On the average, how much money do you carry? Me? That’s like asking a leper how many fingers they got on them.
13. What jewelry do you wear 24/7? A scapular…fragments of a Catholic upbringing…get out of Purgatory free pass.
14. Favorite piece of clothing? I like a good jacket…you can own cheap clothing and have one good jacket to make it all right. I like my fedora too.

— FOOD —

15. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it? I use my three foot tongue. That’s right ladies!
16. Have you ever eaten Spam? Be careful that those who eat Spam do not in turn become spam…and he who eats long into the Spam, the Spam also eats you.
17. Favorite ice cream flavor? I’m partial to Cherry Garcia (a recent taste).
18. How many cereals in your cabinet? 0…Not even a decaying box of Count Chocula.
19. What’s your favourite beverage? Rum…with whatever. Overpriced coffee is good too because when I complain about it and make fun of those who buy it…and then take a sip, it tastes just like fresh roasted hypocrisy.
20. What’s your favorite restaurant? A good Chinese Buffet will do it for me.
21. Do you cook? I microwave like a mo-fo.

— GROOMING —

22. How often do you brush your teeth? Once a day…I should do more…
23. Hair drying method? Usually a towel and a long ass wait (there is a lot of it right now). One time I was running late and went to work sopping wet. I used one of those air pressure cans that you clean the key boards with. There was much amusement in the office and a nice quaff I might add.
24. Have you ever colored/highlighted your hair? No…I like my dark hair. And my hair likes me. Well…sometimes it bullies me with this widow’s peak…threatens me with male pattern baldness…but I think it’s an empty threat mostly…what…no…it only does it because it loves me…what…this…oh, no…I…I fell down…you don’t understand!!!
— MANNERS —

25. Do you swear? Fuck no (yeah…I just bet I’m the first person in history to use that little clever number)
26. Do you ever spit? Yes…but only when saliva flies out of my mouth.

— WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE —

27. Animal? Sometime the Raven (go figure) but right now I’m leaning on Indigo snake.
28. Food? Crag Rangoons!
29. Month? October
30. Day? October 31st
31. Cartoon? Family Guy…Cowboy Beebop (there are many more…cartoons as a storytelling form are coming into there own…mostly thanks to the work of other countries who see it’s potential)
32. Shoe Brand? Black and cheap (that’s my general philosophy…black and cheap looks exactly like black and expensive)
33. Subject in school? Writing
34. Color? Indigo (at the moment…it’s like black if black had color)
35. Sport? Dodge Ball (not the pussy ball that is in schools now…but the red rubber tread dodge ball from grade school…the one that left tread marks in your head…now that was the glory!)
36. TV show? Movies…I like wide screen TVs because they say, screw TV…I’m watching a movie
37. Thing to do in the spring? write
38. Thing to do in the summer? write
39. Thing to do in the fall? write
40. Thing to do in the winter? write

— IN AND AROUND —

41. The CD player? My CD player has died and gone. I still have the speakers cause they are holding up a rubber raven and a little water fountain respectively.
42. Person you talk most on the phone with? It’s kind of spread equally.
43. Ever taken a cab? Yes (many in Chicago, a couple in New York, and a few in Athens…and a bus in Africa)
44. Do you regularly check yourself out in store windows and mirrors? Yeah…I do…
45. What color is your bedroom? White walls painted every shade of black light.
46. Do you use an alarm clock? It’s gotten to the point where I have to set the alarm so I’m not late for work at 2pm.
47. Window seat or aisle? Window…I want to see the little gremilin on the wing.

— LA LA LAND —

48. What’s your sleeping position? Usually the stomach (though it’s bad on the back). Spooning when with someone. I also like to fork…hehe.
49. Even in hot weather do you use a blanket? No…on top of blankets when hot.
50. Do you snore? yes
51. Do you sleepwalk? I don’t know…but if I do maybe I can train myself to sleep power walk and save a lot of time.
52. Do you talk in your sleep? I don’t know…
53. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Nope…I’ve seen enough horror movies to know what dolls and stuffed animals are really up to.
54. How about with the light on? No. I need dark…which is hard when you go to bed at 6am.
55. Do you fall asleep with the TV or radio on? Not usually. Sometimes music. Sometimes…when I want to bulk up on my vocab…I put on audio Poe stories/poems while I sleep.
56. Last interesting person you met? Not the last…but I met a reptile keeper with nine fingers and only a few teeth, named Hawk, at a reptile pit in Missouri on a random route 66 road trip with some buds (Remember Hawk guys???)

— WTF —
57. Weridest place you’ve ever puked. I got nothing…
58. Craziest place you’ve ever gotten freaky. A dangerously fast, moving vehicle…and I’d do it again! Do you hear me world?
59. Grossest thing you’ve ever seen. Remember that scene from VAN WILDER with the dog with the huge testicles and the cream filled pastry….yeah…
60. Most disgusting thing you’ve ever eaten. One time this jerk delivered some cream filled pastries…
61. What’s that smell? Nothing! I just cleaned Lenore’s cage. It smells like a freaking…uh…clean room…I guess…

“Josh shot himself in the head,” Genenda told me through the phone and shock.

“Oh my God,” I said, through my phone and my concern.

Concern and shock and tragically little surprise.

We had agreed, during our time of separation, to leave each other be (except for the every month or so when we talked about how that was working out). We did make the concession of phone calls to each other when things got ruff (despite everything, we still know how to comfort one another). This qualified.

My name is Josh…but “Josh” was Genny’s younger sister, Annie’s, former boyfriend and suddenly that coincidence seemed a lot less funny. A lot of things suddenly did.

Josh was Annie’s boyfriend and I think, at one point, they even tried living together. I had met him a couple of times. Apparently, he had some problems – depression and a family that threw him out of the house and a host of other things that I am only aware of in the periphery. He had some sort of breakdown and threatened suicide. He was let into some place for a while and Annie took care of him. Her parents were concerned. Concern blossomed into ugly bouquets of fear when he expressed his desire for Annie to join him in mutual suicide.

Things got weird.

He was no longer welcome at the house. He moved in with Genny and Annie’s grandmother.

Things got weirder.

He moved out.

Annie tried to help him, despite her family’s (understandable) misgivings. But things got weirder still and they split up. He’d try and contact her from time to time. Including last night. He called her, gun in hand, trying to get her to visit him. She stayed with friends instead.

Later they found him dead.

Apparently he had fired the gun, while talking to Annie, a warning shot. A cry for help type of deal. Later, his mother came out to try to talk to him and he shot at her. From here the story gets muddled and I don’t have any real facts or chronologies.

Then Genenda tried talking about “us.” But my mind wasn’t willing to switch tracks so easily. My thoughts still followed Josh, about things left unsaid. At the end, he was public enemy number one in that house (understandably), but what was his story? His mother did come at the very end (too little too late) but she threw him out and when they visited him in the hospital he would not speak with his dad. What’s the story there? Are there horror tales that will never be told because inqueries will quickly melt into “My condolences” and “I’m so sorry” and “You did the best you could” and “There was just something ‘not right’ with him.” I don’t know. I have no way of knowing. I only met him a couple of times.

And where is this person who shared my name now? What corner out of time? What did he accomplish. What did he hope to accomplish?

What did he get out of this?

A tiny footnote in the journal of a guy who barely knew him.

In writing class we examined one student’s story. Touching, serious, and sweet – from the point of view of a little girl at her mother’s funeral, in the past, in the South, in their living room. People used to put the dead in their living rooms. We discussed who did this. People decades ago, said the teacher. People in the South, said someone else. The old fashioned said a student, they leave the dead in the living room.

“So do serial killers,” I added, helpfully. And you could hear the record needle scratch off the track of the topic. Serial killers kill people. I, apparently, kill mood.

Back to the story. It was a good story. Gave us the lonely view the youngest daughter during this strange time. Through her innocent eyes, the morbid practices we take for granted were better illustrated – people going up to the coffin and touching the corpse, then going into the next room and shoveling food while talking about the dead – normal to us, but strange to a little girl. We commented on the story and what could be corrected and made better. We were all stuck on the word “pungent.” It was not the type of vocabulary this character would use…so we searched for a better word. Icky and gross were suggested…but not used. Everyone pondered…

“Copiously grotesque,” I added, helpfully. All eyes turned towards me saying something halfway between a laugh and a reprimand. My eyes said, OK…I’ll behave. And my eyes did not lie…

OK – a few people have asked me, recently, how big Lenore will get. Also, she’s just a baby, so you’re not getting the full view of what an indigo is. So, here are a few pictures to give you a better idea (not of Lenore) from the website http://indigosnakes.com/

Enjoy:

How big can Indigos get? This picture should give you an idea.

And here’s another big, purdy snake:

Let me give you another frame of reference. There are a family of snakes (in North America) called King Snakes. They are called this because, amongst other things, they eat other snakes. They even eat rattle snakes. And they are pretty big snakes for North America. But what happens when a King Snake meets and Indigo? Well…here ya go…

“But Josh…is a beast like that safe?” “Yes,” I say. Let me demonstrate with this pic of a boy an his indigo:

“OK, they are tame…but are they cute?” Why yes they are, voice in my head. Here is a picture of pure cuteness:

“OK Josh, those are nice pics and all, but what I really came here for, was some hard core snake porn.” Sigh. Allright. Turn on some Berry White, ‘cause here are two consenting adult indigos getting it on. Ooooooooh baby…

And finally, here is a pic that just amuses me for some reason. The Indigo actually looks expressive. They are more sight driven than some snakes and they actually come up, bend at the neck, and look around (like he’s doing). His face seems to say, “All right…which one of you assholes dumped sand on my head.”

Today has been a good day – one full of pedagogy, macabre toys, and editing photos of my…snake. Allow me to ‘splain.

Today I had to teach a writing class. In my Advanced Short Fiction class, each student has to take a day and teach the class. Any topic we want. It’s a great exercise (we’ve done it in past classes). Everyone comes in with different backgrounds and offer neat little angles of writing that our one teacher wouldn’t have offered.

The problem was…we’ve done this three times before. What was I going to teach this time?

So last night I have a kind of crappy list of things to talk about (but no central theme). I recently picked up a writing book called Write Now! and was flipping through it for ideas. I find a few relaxation exercises…and they are almost verbatim matches of the exercises I learned in my acting classes (relaxing, breathing, character visualization, etc.).

And then it clicks.

Some of the things I’ve gotten good comments on in the past are character dialogue, characterization, and first person stories. I think, in large part, this comes from my theatre background. The same exercises we use to get character speech patterns and movement down are the same ones (I’ve found) that can be used for your character dialogue and descriptive metaphors on the printed page.

There was my angle. None of the other writer’s had that background. So I copied out example exercises from the book. Wrote down my own from past acting classes. And off I went to teach today.

It went very well. My lesson was WRITERS AS ACTORS. I explained the exercises. I told how most art comes down to the same, single celled evolutionary ancestor – storytelling. I took out the lists of character questions (got reacquainted with an old friend – Uta Hagen) from Bill’s classes. I was able to present everything in a cool, collect manner, and it all seemed to connect.

Then, Dr. Perkins (former English teacher at Eureka and the reason I’m in Springfield) said, “Can we do one of the exercises?” I have not done one of these in a while. I certainly haven’t run a group of people through one in several years…not since I directed “The Veldt” (remember Torrie?). But, my general view on things is that when confronted with something that scares or intimidates you, dive in head first and you’ll tread water because you have to. On my better days I actually follow through with this philosophy.

“OK,” I said.

So I dimmed the lights, used my best (not too overtly) hypno-voice, got everyone to relax, breath, control breathing, relax each muscle (one at a time), visualizing stress with colors (made that up on the fly), and, after enough time, got into the characterization exercises (picturing characters as animals, objects, and how that affects them). I then crossed the bridge from acting and explained how this helps wiht writing. I won’t go into it all…but it went really well…they wall went to Never-Never Land and when they got back they said it worked. Years of systemized procrastination trains one to think on their feet.

In fact one of them said, after I brought the lights back up, “I found the ending to my thesis!” I smiled, thinking, Excellent! I’m a genius.

I’ll try to remember this, when, inevitably, next week, I’ll be at my key board, pulling my hair, screaming, “I’M A MORON!!!”

Another bright note in my day…I’m now the proud owner, through an ebay bid, of the action figure of….you guessed…EDGAR ALLAN POE!!! Observe:

That’s right! The Edgar Allan Poe action figure, complete with: detachable Raven, karate chop action, and slip-silently-into-madness™ button.

Well, that’s all for now. Oh wait…I forgot something…oh yes! I have finally taken pictures of my “snake” and want to post them on the web. Wink, wink.

Thanks Torrie, for taking pictures of me playing with my snake. But enough porno allusions. Ladies and gentlemen – here at long last – making her premiere appearance – taking over for (but not replacing) my last familiar for my word-weaving wizardry (every writer should have one), Rocco, is that sexy lady serpent…LENORE!

Your LJ Halloween Party by Karen_Walker
Username
You’re Dressed As	a Princess
The Rock Star	lite_goddess
The Naughty Nurse	frankenmonkey
The School Girl	dlehr17
The Witch	tarabear83
The Care Bear	ec_pterodactyl
The French Maid	_contrived_
The Dominatrix	rich101682
The Clown	farmkingdude85
The Cowboy	joliefleur98
The Porn Star	aviumnemus
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Had Lenore out today and with the help of Torrie, took a little photo shoot of the little snake. Photos coming soon. Right now, I’m working, working, working, working on getting things organized with my thesis.

So for now…here’s some weird free writing stuff…

PAST FORTUNES
I once knew a gypsy fortuneteller who would tell fortunes, by the twilight of a convenience store sign, after they had happened. I told her she was always late. She told me she was always accurate.

GEORGE HAD A WAY…
…of ruining things that were fun and innocent. In second grade, we had gift week. You’d exchange presents with a buddy, one little gift a day. Students also had the option of purchasing one, large gift, one that could be broken down to five smaller pieces – one for each day.

George gave me a hamster.

WHEN GOING THROUGH LIFE
Ride with the top down.
Don’t look back too much.
Appreciate the now.
And always ask for whipped cream on top.

UNPUBLISHED VOLUMES
I found the forgotten library in the ruins and in the library was a book. This book looked new and this book looked ancient – like a child with eon old eyes. The pages were thick and good. They murmured ashen words when flipped. Not like the flimsy paper-pulp of today.

Stories slept in the pages – different stories every time I opened the book. I am at a loss to say what affected the tales; the time of day or the location I opened the text or the thought in my head.

I read a play that I’d never heard of, by Shakespeare, about a city down under the sea. I read a poem by Poe to a forgotten lover, torn up by another suitor before reaching her eyes. I read a lost bible passage and it made everything more clear. I read a tale born in Mark Twain’s dreams, but never brought to paper. I read Volumes I and II by a blind monk of Byzantium…and suspect no one else has…

Today was supposed to be a day off to get things done with…but I spent most of it clutching my stomach and trying to move as little as possible…

I can see the black and white noir setting, the detective pacing, cigarette spewing foggy phantoms in the air. He’s called everyone in the room together, in order to solve the crime. One person in the room is the criminal. It is a frightening bunch. By the fire, stands the Chinese Buffet I ate yesterday in Eureka (the good place was closed…so we went to the not so good place). Sitting in a chair, is the shifty eyed and nervous 24 Ounce Cup of double caffeinated super coffee (I drank in the am hours the night before). He looks guilty of something. Ah, but sitting, seductively on the grand piano, at the other side of the library study, is the femme fetal of our story, Miss Flu Virus. The fedora wearing detective, paces, lookes each suspect in the eye, and then says…

[cue lighting flash, power outage, and a death in the dark]

I really don’t know what the detective said. I’m not sure which suspect is guilty. All I know is that I woke up this morning with my body wracked by a sickness and pain in my stomach. I felt as though I was going to puke from the moment I woke up, till about 6 pm or so…but it never happened. And now it’s gone. Now I’m curious about solid foods, but only brave enough to try some tomato soup…

…and I was going to get things done today.

Instead, I kept trying to answer the very nice comments you folks gave on my last post…but I could hardly get halfway through reading them without doubling over in agony, looking at the floor.

But it’s past and while I feel under the weather still…all things being relative, I feel greeeeeeeaaaat!

So here is some weird free writing I found. The kind I did when I’d wake up and write before I was awake, before even going into the bathroom…weird stuff comes out of your hands before you’re really awake…

THEY’RE STILL REAL
“See”,” he said, “I told you they were real.”
I stared down the well and all I could do was nod.
I stared and I nodded and that was it.
The night turned to day.
And I swore off alcohol forever.
But it didn’t help.

CACKLES IN THE PATCH
Every year they gathered at the pumpkin patch, picking little goblins in embryo. This was the only time they saw one another. These moments were all they had. They rarely spoke. They exchanged their recopies their grimories and then they were off, another year of brews and spells ahead.

CUBICAL PURGATORY
Rob sat in his cubical, hunkered down in the world of dull pain and silent screams. Cut off from his fellow humans by walls of tin and padding, he could only hear the click-clack of typing.

Rob stared at the computer screen, the lifeless glow holding him in place, leaching his youth.

What if, Rob wondered, what if this is Purgatory and I’m dead? What if salvation is an email chain letter I deleted without reading?

Another weekend. Another trip to Eureka. The coffee shop in Springfield, the halfway decent one, closed earlier than it’s normal, limited time, leaving me with an itching writing journal and no where else to go. That was it. Decided, on a spontaneous moment, to head to Eureka. Yeah…that would show Springfield. That would make her jealous. Maybe next time she’d keep her coffee shops open a little later…beg me to stay.

Drive. Top down. No radio. So off-key singing, on the road for me. Eureka. Motley crew of friendly faces. Rich, drunk, singing Nick and I any song we requested off him and his guitar and I had to smile, knowing that, at that moment, Springfield was sagging a little more than usual, thinking, “Damn…what do I have to offer to match that?” Not a thing honey…sorry…

Top-down run to the OP (I remember those). Nick and I trading degrading put downs. Karisa talking at the speed of sound. Trip back. Alex and Johny Law and the rest. Alcohol. Laughs. Hidden tensions (but I’ve been away…I’m not intimately familiar with some of these hidden tensions). More laughs on top of it all.

Then Rich takes me aside and tells me how he’s liked my little musings on this blog and how much we seniors (Dee, Amy, Katherine, and I) meant to him and his class his freshman year. And I have to say THANK YOU Rich. Those reminders are nice. You might be surprised (wait…no you won’t…you work in the creative arts) how you can, one day, feel like an acting/writing/painting/music-playing god, and the next day, be banging your head on the wall, knowing that you’ve been getting away with something for too long and the tax man is going to break your door down, at any second, and say, “There you are, fraud. You’ve avoided me long enough. Time to get a regular job like everyone else.” The reminders help. I don’t think you ever become independent of the reminders.

In that vein, I’d like to make a reminder. It’s easy enough to feel something towards a person(s) and just assume that they know that you know that they know that you know. It’s another thing to say it once in a while (like Rich did). So in that regard, I’d like to make a statement of the importance of my amigos from Eureka, whether they’ve flown the nest, are testing their wings, or just now bulking up on worms…and I’ve really worn that metaphor out, like a scratched record (oh…now I’m mixing metaphors – HA!).

Anyway, I just wanted to say how important the friends I made in Eureka – whether from my class (hey Dee) or from after that (hey Rich, hey Kris, hey Kurt) or even after my graduation (hey Karisa, hey Alex, hey Amanda) – mean to me (there are many more, too many to put here just now…but I think I covered everyone who might read this).

All you guys are fun and worthwhile folk with…well…call it depth, call it spirit, call it a candy coated filling. I’ve been away, I’ve seen other people. And there are many, MANY, out there who have no filling, no depth. They are tasteless, flat, and hollow (whether mentally, emotionally, or otherwise). Some of them are this way passively…others are worse and are this way aggressively, like suction-mouthed lampreys, sucking on everything to fill the void – sucking on beer on self esteem on emotion, anything to distract them from the encroaching approach of the big 3 – 0. And then everyone is hollow and they’ve sucked on everything and everyone is sucking. And that just sucks.

I’m not trying to paint the world in five shades of despair or anything. There are other interesting folk out there. I’ve met a few in Springfield (but most of them have graduated the writing program and I don’t get to see them as much as I like). I just wanted to say that the next time a bad vibe slinks down your spine (and they always do) to remember that the lot of you are talented, worthwhile people with soul and I know, I’ve been elsewhere and seen the other side of things and the contrast just makes it that much more apparent.

And the sun is coming up and that is long past my last call to bed. But, nocturnal as I’ve gotten, I do like a sunrise, because sunrises and sunsets are like fall and spring and fall and spring are like transition.

‘night kids…