A Good Harvest

Smashing pumpkin sorta good times occur at the festivals of the harvest that make this the best spot on the calendar. Hell, look at these two vixens I encountered at the Croker/Stephens bash/cemetery.

Along the way, I encountered other daughters of darkness, willing concubines of satan. What a night. Wednesday is the worst day for Halloween, though. Yesterday, Christmas decorations were going up at Stone Mountain. I went there for a haunted hayride. How fucking stupid is that?

I guess the Invisible Man's formula wore off. Unfortunately, he took off all his clothes and tried to sneak away. He was swallowed by the night.

Every party these days ends with the tasting of the flesh which some of the guests sampled with relish. That's a little zombie joke. I love little zombies.

It looks like April wound up in a shuttered room but she has Oliver Reed to keep her company.

I think this is finished now. I promise now to deliver the abstract, from the Day of the Dead, and beyond.

Rustlings

Ah, yes. The scary time of year when even a program titled "Bigfootville" catches my attention. I watched "The Shining" again last night, well, starting it at 2 a.m. and that really got the juices flowing. What a masterpiece. And the disc has a special feature documentary about the making of the movie. Big deal, I know, but this is one of the few extras that I watch on any disc, usually preferring just to keep the illusion alive without getting too technical. First of all, the feature-ette is made by a 17-year-old Vivian Kubrick who has amazing access to her father, Jack Nicholson, Shelley Duvall, and the rest. I get so captivated by the behind-the-scenes action that I can't actually believe I'm getting this glimpse into the creation and actualization of art. So I watched the documentary and then I watched it again with Vivian's commentary. I think I'm in love with her. Hell, she's Stanley's daughter and she's my age. You may remember her cameo in "2001" as the little girl who wanted a bush baby for her birthday. Anyway, if you want the perfect Halloween scary movie, I think you, faithful reader, know where I stand.

Patrick and Celeste make their customary Friday stopover at Clay's place.

And here's good ol' Dave Newton with a festive glaze on his mug. I remember him telling me, in 1980, that "The Shining" was filled with 3's because of the mystic significance of the number and I still look for that when I watch. He's right, too. There's all kind of cool triangulations and trios in there.

Also, if you're ever in Yosemite Valley, stop in the Ahwahnee Hotel. The interiors are the inspiration for the Overlook Hotel and many of the main rooms in the atrium are still wonderfully intact. It's truly spooky to walk around in there. There's no room 237, though. Sidebar, the numeric value of 237 is... 3. 2+3+7 =12. 1+2 =3. Coincidence? A one in nine chance.

I finally started painting again and I'm working on this beach scene to get my chops back. I meant to paint something macabre. I'll do it this week. Watch and see.

Gathering Ghosts

A few nights ago I whirled to get my camera when I saw this apparition hovering just beyond the graveyard. This is the time of year when dodging spider webs is a major concern and now we add ghosts to the list. So far, the spirits in my life have merely been subtext to the mystery of the overall journey. The fall has begun to cast the spell of the harvest and I feel like celebrating lifes and deaths. At the turn of the switch, the spider webs are empty and in disrepair in the cool mornings before the sun, without opposition, returns the most pure and warm lights to fill all the hearts in the south. These are the days when I no longer worry about how much room there is left in hell. I'm going to the Georgia Dome tonight to watch the Atlanta Falcons engage the Giants of New York. Don't that sound great? Engaging Giants and all.

Now I attack each new day with an enthusiasm unknown to this date on this planet. I feed my art and it must feed me. No actual nutritional value.

When it's time to change...

These are the best days of all. The sky has found its color after months of haze. Early evening brings forgotten coolness and the air is tinted with a touch of sweet decay. Pieces are finding their grooves and I have to unlock the majesty of the star. October makes it necessary to hold on to each day as something special, like Gatsby grasping at the impossible. Gotta read that one again. Certain books unlock the ghosts of my heart and allow them to play which makes everybody happy. Reading IS fundamental and I almost feel like reaching back to the Hardy Boys to rediscover my literary roots and influences. By the days, my camera shall roam and my brushes will stay dipped. I stand by my dish.