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or, The Modern Ridiculous

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I think I'm writing a comedy about idiots living in the south. I don't mean the whole 'you might be a redneck' bullshit. There would be a special place in hell for those folks, if hell existed. I mean people tragically stupid in an almost Faulknerian way. The south has always been a place of great debauchery, depravity, symbolism, bravery, and utter shame. Whats the old saying? Out of great misery comes art. Something like that. Well out of great misery comes comedy to! Why do we laugh when we see someone slip and fall? No one thinks about it, it's just funny. Well think about it. The south is easy to laugh at, the whole fucking region slipped on a big damn banana and cracked its face on the stupid tree...and then rolled down the hill into the ugly thorns, where the incest azaleas blossom. Anyway, what I'm trying to say, is that for all its profound idiocy, the south is a damn fine place. The land is rich in beauty and texture, the people are larger than life (in their troubles and their triumphs), and we claim Atlanta, New Orleans, and the whole goddamn states of Alabama and Mississippi. If there isn't something worth pointing and laughing at in any of those places, then I don't know what funny is.

So there, I've made my case. But I'm really not sure how reading 'Great Tales of Terror and The Supernatural' is really going to help me.
Current Mood:
amused amused
Current Music:
Rednecks - Randy Newman
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Guess what? Im posting this from home...but Im at work!! Thats right Im working from home now! Hahahah! Yay!
Current Mood:
happy happy
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Writing!
 
I have a new idea. Why is it I always have new ideas but never any new finished novels. Shit I would take a short story. Anyway, my idea has to do with the awkwardness of handling a death. I think I can weave it into a larger narrative about some weird characters I know of from the south. Some of them my family some of them from the life of my friend Chris. Actually if I was really deft I would weave it all into one huge narrative. But I really dont think I have the skill. But that doesnt matter because a call has been made if there ever was one.

Next month is National Write a Novel Month. I have been trying forever to actaully write somthing but I just cant get motivated. After all there is so much going on in my life. But that should be what drives me. The fact that I am constantly going in circles isnt very helpful. Im just going to have to buckle down and do it. This coming November will test me. Five pages a day! Is that really so hard? I dont know but Im willing to try. 

Books!

Currently I'm reading I Am America (And So Can You!) by Stephen Tiberius Colbert. It is simply hilarious. I'm going to submit my video portion of the book in the next few days and then I will be imortalized on the internet...once again. Ok, I will be reputably immortalized on the internet. Im about to start the chapter on religion, and I can't wait!

Im also continuing to read one story at a time from the mamoth anthology Great Tales of Terror and The Supernatural. Im trying to learn more about the horror story. I want to know what I should and should not know in the contect of a good creepy yarn. Thing is, as much as I love stuff like The Twilight Zone and Stephen King, I'm not sure I can pull that sort of writing off. Then again, I can be pretty fucking morbid.

Film!

I've been watching episodes of The Ray Bradbury Theatre. Its like a cool 80s Twilight Zone with one of the 20th century's greatest authors at it's helm. It's got some pretty weird and creepy stuff...and than it has some really crappy shit to. But thats to be expected - they cant all be gems. Still its good enough that I want the whole series. Its only 18.99 new from Amazon! I think I'll do it once all the money for this month comes in.

There you go.
Current Mood:
artistic artistic
Current Music:
The Soothing Sounds of The Call Center
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    For several years my parents have been in the antique trade. They have exquisite taste. Dark wood, old framed prints, and deep crimson felt are usually what people will find in their booths. Of course next to their wares I found something more to my interest: Books. Books in antique stores come in two categories: 1) Filler, usually Readers Digest condensed versions or cookbooks, to spruce up the usual banality, or 2) An actual book-seller's booth. What I had found was the latter. The literary fair involved was mostly from the last century, meaning the 20th, and was in very good condition. What made me very happy indeed was that the proprietor seemed to enjoy weird fiction. I made several purchases over the course of as many months. I collect books. Soon I found that I had a fairly large collection of horror fiction.
    I had always enjoyed horror ever since my uncle, who had a very large horror collection in his library, bought me both Night Shift and Skeleton Crew by Stephen King. My sister's husband had some older paperbacks of H.P. Lovecraft lying around and the covers alone made me read his work. But other than reading more into those authors respectively, I didn't really read any further into horror. I knew I was drawn to the genre both in print and in other media. But I never took the time to research what I liked about it. As it turns out fate has a plan after all.
    I had just got through reading a horror anthology I had bought from the booth I have mentioned. It was unique in that all the stories included were mentioned in Lovecraft's essay "Supernatural Horror in Literature." One of the names mentioned was M.R. James. In fact I had come across that name before while researching Lovecraft on the internet. 'The greatest writer of ghost stories in the English language' I believe he was called. Well I hadn't been looking for him until I happened on a large hardbound edition in the book booth entitled Collected Ghost Stories by M.R. James. The picture above is not the cover of my book, although it was printed by the Wordsworth company. There was a sticker on the dust-jacket, which looked exactly like the cover, that said it was a promotional copy. It is beautiful and I plan to post my copy on as soon as possible.
    What I found by reading these, other than one of the most enjoyable reading experiences of my adult life, was the world that had existed in my mind since before high school. It all became very clear to me. The soot of new Industrial England, the fog on the rolling moors, the marble and oak of darkened cathedrals, Persian rugs under high backed chairs in a square windowed library. The 19th century whispered to me like the cold breath of a phantom in my ear. This was what I enjoy about this genre. At this time I have begun to purchase more Gothic fiction. Not black lipstick, collars, and too-tight corsets, no. Actual Gothic literature. The Monk by Lewis, The Italian by Radcliffe, The Vampyre by Polidori; this is the era I enjoy the most. This doesn't mean I don't enjoy modern Horror, just that this is what I was writing about in my journal at age 17. I only wish I had taken the time to search it out sooner.
    Thank you Montague Rhodes James, you antiquarian scholar, for helping me on the way.
Current Mood:
scared scared
Current Music:
Suzanne - Randy Newman
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I begin like this I suppose; quickly and before I go to work. At any rate here's the beginning. Soon, very soon, there will be a real post here. And when there is, by god, you will know it!
Current Mood:
scared scared
Current Music:
Get Up & Get Out - The Rose Buds
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