October 25: By the Pricking of My Thumbs...

Something wicked this way comes...

Tonight, my book club meets to discuss Shadow Show.  It is a perfect night to commune with Ray Bradbury, rain and fog and thunder.  In some ways, I feel like I've been peaking into the tents of Mr. Dark's carnival, seeing sea monsters and ghosts and disembodied heads.  I am a child again, sneaking into the adult section of the library to peer into books about Lon Chaney and Boris Karloff.  Yes, Frankenstein and Dracula are coming to dinner tonight at my house.

To accompany these guests, we will have soup and warm bread and rolls.  I can't think of a better way to spend a late October evening.  While the fallen maple leaves become slick and cold outside, inside we will huddle together and whisper about the secrets of the Dark carnival.  The pumpkins are grinning on front porches.  Orange lights festoon windows.  And, on the television, screams and howls.

All Hallow's Eve is upon us.  Halloween time.  Bradbury time.

Saint Marty is ready to jump on the carousel.

October 22: "Psycho" and Shadows

I have been doing two things in the last couple of days.  I have been watching Psycho in preparation for showing it to my Intro to Film classes.  And I have been reading that Ray Bradbury tribute collection of short stories, Shadow Show.  Well, these two tasks have put me in a definite Halloween frame of mind.  Serial killers and ghosts and monsters and whatnot.  It's dark material, but I don't mind it.  As a kid, I subscribed to a film magazine titled Fangoria that revelled in showing full color pictures of the goriest scenes from current horror flicks.  I waited each month for this magazine to show up in my mailbox.

Yes, I was a slightly creepy kid.  However, my reading of Fangoria, and my knowledge of how movie makeup and effects work, made me immune to the scary parts of horror films.  I was also a huge fan of Stephen King novels as a teenager, as well.  My proclivity for gore and monsters and zombies drew me to darker, more serious films and books as an adult.  For example, when I teach Good Books at the university, there is one novel I have used more than any other.  It's a Christmas story by Oscar Hijuelos titled Mr. Ives' Christmas.  It's about a man whose son is gunned down on the street outside a church on Christmas Eve.  It's full of violence and ghosts and death and redemption.  It's one of my favorite novels of all time.

Perhaps I'm a slightly creepy adult, as well.  I will say that, as a parent, I'm appalled by some of the gornography released to theaters these days.  Saw and Hostel and the like.  However, every once in a while at night, I just want to kick back and watch an army of zombies eat some brains.  Thank God for The Walking Dead.

Saint Marty is looking forward to spending some time with Norman Bates this week.

I actually own two copies of this issue

October 21: Pumpkins and End of Weekend and New Cartoon

Well, since my pumpkin patch yielded only one, small, green pumpkin (which a rabbit gnawed on and killed), I will have to go pumpkin shopping soon.  I don't mind buying squash for All Hallow's Eve, but I was really hoping to save some money with those pumpkin plants in my backyard.  Of course, I spent $30 on top soil and God knows how much money on water.  For my third attempt at growing pumpkins, I guess I should be happy I actually had something to show for all my effort this year.  Next year, I will be investing in some major fertilizer and rabbit traps.

There is really only one thing wrong with weekends:  they come to an end way too quickly.  Tomorrow, another five days of toil begins.  This week, I have a couple of things to look forward to.  Tomorrow morning, I'm having breakfast with a friend.  She's bringing me a birthday present, and she's a great baker.  I'm looking for some homemade cinnamon rolls.  On Thursday evening, my book club meets at my house.  We're reading a tribute collection of stories written for Ray Bradbury titled Shadow Show.  If you're a fan of Bradbury, or short fiction, I highly recommend it.  It includes writers like Margaret Atwood, Dave Eggers, Harlan Ellison, Neil Gaiman, and Alice Hoffman.  It's like a Who's Who of North American fiction.

So, still trying to remain positive, I have some really good events coming up this week.  If I add some caffeine and a bag of Scoop Fritos, it's going to be an awesome seven days.

Saint Marty, keeping it real.

Confessions of Saint Marty