2017 Comic Con: John Cusack

I spent all day Saturday in Providence, RI at the 2017 Comic Con. I took TONS of pics and spent a couple mortgage payments there. Lots of pics to come in the following days.

First one up: John Cusack as Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything. When I was at the signing table, h

e smirked in a grumpy way when he used the wrong pen, instead of my blue sharpie, and his assistant said he'd sign a different picture in my blue sharpie, which he did. And then he kept the sharpie! I'm glad I got his autograph, but he lived up to his curmudgeon reputation. But it was poetic. Just as Ione Sky gave him a pen in Say Anything, so did I at Comic Con.

I'm Now On Facebook, and July's Donations

Photo: Original address of Facebook's headquarters, in Menlo Park, CA, from its Wikipedia page.

Yes, I've joined the 21st Century, finally, after being a technology curmudgeon for so long. So look me up if you're so inclined. I'm in RI, so you can tell me apart from the thousands of other similar names on there.

[And did anyone notice Facebook's CA headquarters' address? Is Hacker Way the best address for it to have?]

Photo: Salvation Army's logo, from its Wikipedia page, here.

In other news, I made 5 trips to the local Savers and Salvation Army the last few weeks, and in that time donated:

18 DVDs

58 hardcover books

68 paperback books

1,336 baseball cards

As you can see above, I have a movie, paper and cardboard hoarding issue.

They Lie -- Fake News on the Radio

Photo: Original 1st Edition of the hardcover, from the book's Wikipedia page

One of my (many) personal catch-phrases that I say (perhaps way) too often is: "It's not that I don't really trust anyone, or anything...It's just that I don't really trust anyone--or anything." Occasionally I've wondered if maybe I'm being a little too paranoid or cynical. But then this past week happened. The last 10 days or so have blissfully reinforced my outlook. I've been emboldened, and it seems to me that I'm right, sadly but surely, that everywhere around us are "Lies! Lies!" (Those quotes were for a friend of mine. Those two words are amongst his favorite catch-phrases.)

So here's one of the lies flung at me recently:

1. A radio station commercial that sounds like a newswoman reading a report, but which is actually a commercial for an organization that represents the National Republican Party.

If you're in RI, listen in to B101. (And, no, that's my better half's preferred station, not mine. I don't have a preferred station. I mostly listen to CDs and YouTube.) Anyway, here's what this woman says. In a newscaster's tone, she tells us that 80% believe that the news about Trump and Russia is overblown and that we should all just move on. (This is before we knew that Trump Jr. sold his soul to that devil.) She then says that 75% believe that it is wrong for a foreign leader to mock our president.

But...80% and 75% of whom, exactly? She doesn't say. Now if she'd said the 80% came from 8 out of 10 Republicans polled, I'd believe that. And 80 out of 100. Or 800 out of 1000. Or, hell, even 4 out of 5. That's the number of dentists from that commercial, right? (Watch out for numbers. They don't lie, but they can be manipulated. You ever notice that polls--during ballgames, for example, when they ask a seemingly random and irrelevant question and then tell you to text your answer--are always gauged by percentage and not whole numbers? Because they don't want you to know that only 5 people texted, or only 10 people were polled. So, yeah, 4 out of 5 and 8 out of 10 are 80%, but is that a relevant stat?

Photo: from qz.com, (which got it from the Associated Press), as is the quote in quotation marks:

"This meeting was the one in which Trump gave highly classified information to Russian foreign minister Sergey Lavrov and ambassador Sergei Kislyak."

Another thing: If that woman is saying that 80% of the country--across all political lines--think that we need to move on from this Trump-Russia thing (Notice I didn't use a slash there, like Trump/Russia, because those two really are connected.), then I assure you that's straight-up BS. Lots of Republicans are wary and leery of Trump & Russia, so I'll bet that more than 20% of them would say it needs more looking into. And I double-dog assure you that if even all of the country's Republicans believed the news is "fake news"--which is not the case--then you still need a very high percentage of Democrats and Independents to feel the same way in order to make the 80% stat accurate. Do you honestly think that about half of all Democrats and Independents think that way? That's a "Hell, no!" no matter what your opinion is on the Trump-Russia issue itself.

Why the ad that sounds like a newscast? LIES! That's for the people who believe what they hear (Mistake 1) and who don't think about what they read or hear (Mistake 2) and who then tell others what they hear and relay it as fact when it isn't (Mistake 3).

 Who made that ad? Well, who has the most to gain by it? C'mon, isn't that creepy? That's right out of Animal Farm, and it's scary. (And shame on you if you don't know the reference. Animal Farm and 1984 should be required reading right now.) That's shady people working for shady politicians who are shadily using the media (in this case, the radio) to spread falsity and lies to benefit themselves and to give themselves more power. That should frighten and anger you, and if it doesn't, well, that's what they're counting on.

And a fake newscaster saying fake stats like it's news? Yeah--that's literally "fake news," people. And from the very people who swear it's being used against them. These people are slimy. I need to take a shower just having to think about these people. But think I do, and you should, too.

Please let me know if you've heard this ad, or something like it. Share your story.

Next time on "They Lie": furniture mailings that push "interest-free monthly payment options" more than their furniture, and a mortgage company insisting they're holding a really low interest payment percentage for me that's actually higher than the one I already have.

Comic Con 2016 -- Christian Slater

Some pics from Comic Con this November in Providence, RI.

Me and Christian Slater:

This was Christian Slater's first-ever Con of any kind. He's eligible for Mr. Robot, his current show, which I haven't seen, and from his guest role in a Star Trek movie. (If you know which one, you're much more of a fan than I, though I've seen all of the original films, and all of the rebooted Kirk films.)

But the majority of the talk at the panel was about Heathers, of course. For example, in this pic, where it looks like I'm in the picture I'm taking, but it's not me:

Slater was an extremely friendly guy when I met him for his picture and autograph. Not just faking it, as many of them do, and not sounding like he's uncomfortable or disgusted. He's aged well, partly perhaps because he seems like a very nice, laid-back guy. My better half also says it's because he married someone outside the business, which is also a possible reason. He seemed to be having a good time. Only time will tell if he's the same way after his 100th Comic Con, but he was cool here.

He said he got the cameo in that Star Trek movie because his mother was casting for the film, and someone had just dropped out of the role, and they were ready to shoot. He'd been on the lot shooting a show and a movie, and his mother asked if he had a moment. He was a fan of the show, so he agreed to the spot start.

He also received a lot of questions about Pump Up the Volume, which I suppose was a little ahead of its time. Message-wise, not high school. But we could sure use Harry now! I got a chance to comment to him about Murder in the First, a very overlooked movie, and one which I wished I'd had more of a chance to speak to him about. I got in line at the panel, but they ran out of time, so me and three others had to sit back down. But I brought the movie up to him in person, said I liked it, and he said, "Yes! Of course!" which he said to a great many things. But it was his first Comic Con, so he'll have to work on his instant responses. But at least it wasn't fake. As usual, an honest guy, no BS.

Coming soon: Michael Cudlitz, recently departed of The Walking Dead, at Comic Con.

Blood on Snow by Jo Nesbo -- A Book Review

[::Long, deep sigh:: Let's get through the next four years together, Reader, you and I. Okay, moving on...]

Photo: from Bostonglobe.com, via this link

Very tight story, in 1st person except for the last short chapter--a bit of a writerly cheat, that--about a professional hitman, sort of like Leon, who is told to "fix" his boss's wife. He falls in love with her from a distance, of course, and instead wants to save her. Or does he? The story descends (not in a bad way, but you feel the story is a descent of some kind) from there, with a bit of self-deception. You might like the ending, or you might not, but there's no denying that it fits. He waits for a woman to take stock of her business before closing for the night, but he instead "takes stock" of himself. (GET IT?) And, like the rest of us, sometimes, especially in our darkest nights, he doesn't like what he sees.

It's noir, so each of his nights is our darkest night. That's the genre, take it or leave it. By the way, rumor has it that Leonardo DiCaprio has been attached to an adaptation of this book since 2014. IMDB says it's "in development," but it's been in that stage of purgatory for two years now.

The book reads a bit like Stephen King's Blaze, in the sense that it's taut and interesting, and it moves, though you've seen it all before, and probably will again. That's okay here; in fact, it's part of the allure, maybe. You know the wife will be up to no good--she's cheating on her husband, after all, which is why he wants her "fixed"--and wait until you see who she's cheating with. That's probably the new slant of this story. You probably haven't seen that before. I can't remember the last time I saw it. [Austrian accent.] What do you think about that, Dr. Freud?

It's American Noir taking place in Norway, which doesn't exactly make it Nordic Noir. Harry Hole, Jo Nesbo's main cash cow, is more Nordic Noir than this is, so this is a welcome relief if you've tired of Nesbo's series, as I have. (Couldn't stand it when he killed off Hole's female partner, without anyone shedding a tear, and even had her cut up in many little pieces. Worse, you could see that coming a mile away, as all the characters, including Hole, are just standing there with their thumbs in the air.) Anyway, this really could have taken place anywhere, though the ending needs a frozen night. But, hell, you can get that around my neck of the woods, and it's blizzards right now in the Midwest.

So this is a good, quick read, which I ate up in about four total hours over two days. As usual with a Nesbo book, I had a minor bad taste in my mouth at the end, this time about the writer cheat of telling the book in first person, except for the very short third person final chapter. (A recent read, from Frank Tallis, did the same thing, except Tallis steps around the cheat by giving us some medical reports that we were expecting, rather than a blatant break of the wall.) The ending made sense in a thematic way, though it may not end as you'd hope, though why it matters with someone who's killed scores of people is maybe a mystery, and a testament of a sort of Nesbo's ability to humanize the monstrous main character. Again, no denying Nesbo's writing ability, and maybe I'm the only one who walks away slightly disappointed with every Nesbo book. I feel that it is more me than him, which is why I'm rating it like I am.

But, still...

Coming soon: Movie reviews of Hacksaw Ridge and Arrival, plus this year's Comic Con in RI.

Quick Jots 2.8.2016

Hey, it's been almost three weeks between posts--a long time for me. So here's what's new this month, in no particular order:

--The Broncos may get the ring, but the real winner of the Super Bowl was Lady Gaga. The other acts fizzled, the ads were bleh, and the game was boring and badly played.

--Speaking of Lady Gaga, she's been pretty good in this season's American Horror Story, too. I'm three episodes behind--the last three--so don't ruin anything for me.  Of course, having said that, I've been seeing a little too much of Lady Gaga lately. If you've seen the show, you know what I mean.

--I'm not sure halftime of the Super Bowl is the place to make political statements, even if they're valid. People watching the Super Bowl are not always going to be the most politically-conscious.

--Trump losing Iowa--and almost finishing in third place--re-establishes. But it's early, so don't let me down, people.

--I've already had a Republican president who didn't quite think things through before he said them. I don't need another one anytime soon.

--Trump blamed the media and Ted Cruz for his poor showing. He strikes me as one of those people who never takes responsibility for anything at all. His advisers need to tell him that he lost because Iowa is a religiously conservative state, and Trump is just conservative. He stumbles at religion questions, and doesn't say the word "God" enough to win there. And they may not be too excited about Big City rich guys from New York, either.

--Having said that, Rick Santorum won Iowa in 2012. The Iowa Caucus does not a president make.

--Local schools have been blitzed by fake bomb threats that have disrupted things greatly. Newport had three such hoaxes--in the same week. And then a snow day Friday and today.

--News reports today say RI police have traced the sources of the hoaxes to Russia. I could've told them that: According to Google Analytics, Russians read my blog more than Americans do. But I suspect there's just a bot or two coming from there and playing games with my numbers.

--Of course, if you're a solid Russian reader of this blog, I apologize...

The Conjuring House

Photo: I took this pic of an open crypt door at a cemetery near The Conjuring House.

After watching The Conjuring (my movie review, here), I decided to take a trip to Burrillville, Rhode Island (about half an hour away) and see the house it's based on.  My intention was to just go for a nice drive with my dog and to get out of the house for awhile.  If I could inobtrusively get a glimpse of the house from the road, fine.  If not, I'll just drive by and see what there was to see.

I want to make it clear that I do not condone anyone going to the house and loitering around.  There's an old couple that lives in there now, and they have a right to their privacy.  Having said that, I won't be a hypocrite, and I'll admit that I took a few pictures from the street of the house's front door (that's all of the house you can really see; it's not at all like the one in the film) and of the nearby barn, which I thought looked creepier than the house.  I was hoping for a glimpse of the lake in the backyard; the house is in a management area, so there's a real possibility of such a thing.  But, alas, no.  Anyway, I do not condone or advise for anyone to do what I just said I did, even from the street, and I'll explain why.  But before I do, ask yourself: Do you want a crowd of people congregating in the street, gawking at you and your home, and taking pictures of your house and barn?  One of the women I met there even told someone she was going to go up to the door and knock on it, or ring the bell.

I advised her not to do so.  Not only is it loitering and trespassing, but, also, according to the true story, that's the same front door that the evil spirits banged on relentlessly.  This latter part worked.

So I started off from my house with my dog and my directions.  Driving up there was very easy.  I got a little lost from poor signage, but I found the house in question, no problem, and even drove past it and soon entered Massachusetts.  I pulled over beside a large local cemetery (of course), and I let the dog out in some nearby grass away from the cemetery.  (People who let their dogs go to the bathroom in a cemetery at all, especially if they don't clean it up, are committing a blasphemy of some sort.)  Unfortunately, the dog did #2, so I double-bagged it and then threw that into a Dunkin' Donuts paper bag, so at least it didn't smell, and later I threw it away in a garbage can at a nearby gas station, much to the cashier's dismay.  I also entered the cemetery on my own and saw four other people also in it, which is rare.  I looked around very quickly for any stones from real-life people mentioned in my research, but I didn't find any.  I did not look very thoroughly, to be honest, and later I realized it was a waste of time, anyway, because I was now in a small town in Massachusetts, which people living in a house in a small RI town would not be buried in.  Didn't quite think that through.  A few pictures of this cemetery follow:

So I turned back around and headed to The Conjuring's house, which is mostly hidden behind some tall, thick trees, not far from a main road (for Burrillville, anyway) without a breakdown lane.  I saw six other people come out of an SUV and just stand, mostly out of view from the house, so I stepped out of my car.  I noticed the barn, quite a bit away from the house, so a few pictures were taken of that.  I did not want to spend time in front of the house, as I felt very strongly that the homeowners would be ready for that, and would be very unamused.   But I stepped out when I saw the others, and we talked about where they were from, and how long it took to get to this house.  Schenectady, and almost three hours, as I'd mentioned.  I took a couple of pictures of the front door through the many trees, had time to realize that the real house looked nothing at all like the movie's house (it's a lot smaller, and not as obviously old), and a woman next to me swore, and that's when I saw the swirling lights of the police car.

I walked slowly back to my car before he even stopped out of his.  The cop was very, very stern-looking, a countenance that he must practice in the mirror every day.  Nobody is that serious and stern, I swear.  But I'll bet that he gets a lot with that look, so that he doesn't have to say anything, or threaten anyone, or anything.  In fact, he didn't say a word to any of us, and we all went back to our cars immediately and drove away.

I doubt it was the first time he was at that house (it was about one pm when I got there) and I doubt it'll be his last.  In fact, I was surprised not to see a sign of any kind at the house.  I'll bet there'll be one there soon.  I drove away feeling very sheepish.  I mean, I wouldn't be happy if lots of people even drove slowly past my house, never mind actually stop, get out, gawk, and take pictures.

So I feel badly about it all, which is why I won't post pics of the house and barn here.  But, like I said, you're not missing much, as there wasn't much to see to begin with.  On the way back I stopped at a lake and waterfall, pictured here:

And after I left there, I went sight-seeing for a little while, and drove by two or three local cemeteries on both sides of the narrow road, so that it seemed like I was surrounded by them, which I was.  When I saw the open crypt door, I knew I had to turn around and take a picture of that for something I'm writing--a novel that mostly takes place in TB-infested Rhode Island of the 1880s and 1890s, and is told from the third-person limited POV following the doctor of Rhode Island's most famous example of vampire folklore, Mercy Brown (blog entry here).

So I took some pics of that open crypt door, and the very cool rusted-iron Victorian fence that surrounds some of the gravestones, pictured here:

And that's it.  That's my story of traveling to The Conjuring's house.  Truth be told, the lake, waterfall, crypt and cemeteries were more interesting, and much easier to take pictures of.  And I regret not opening that metal door on the inside of the crypt, with the diamond shapes.

What's your favorite recent (or not-so-recent) horror movie?  Have you ever visited the real-life place, or researched the real-life subject matter or story, etc. of that horror movie?

And would you have gone inside that crypt's open door?

The Conjuring--Movie Review

Photo: The house, tree, and noose from the movie, from the movie's Wikipedia page.  The real house in the village of Harrisville, in Burrillville, Rhode Island, looks nothing like this.

Very good, very creepy horror film, supposedly based on a real house in Burrillville (village: Harrisville), Rhode Island, just a minute or two from the MA border.  My visit to this house will be another blog entry for another day.  (I won't tell you--my RI readers) where this house is, because--as I found out myself--the real people living in the real house want their privacy, and they should get it.  I can tell you that there isn't much to see from the road, there's very little breakdown lane room to park for a quick look, and you'll get arrested if you go on the property, so don't even think about it.  It's easy to find the address online, but if you do, and if you go there, at least I can say that I didn't give you the address and lead you there.  Burrillville itself is a pleasant little town, and there's a cemetery nearby with a crypt that has a very creepy door--wide open.  I'll show pictures of that in the next blog entry about my trip up there.

Anyway, the film isn't overdone, and there's a lot of very creepy images and situations.  A few of these made me jump, which is no easy task, as I've seen and read most of the good (and bad) horror stuff out there.  I'm not often affected in movies in any way, so this was a winner.  The best thing I can say about it is that there's not a moment after the movie ended that you say, "Now that I think about it, that was kinda dumb."  The Ring struck me like this.  It was a very creepily effective movie, but when I thought about it, I realized--In a VHS tape?  How did a drowned girl's spirit somehow make it's way through a VHS tape?  What if the tv is one of those miniature ones that people use in their kitchens?  Or, now, on an I-Phone?  The sequel could be set up with the tape in a discount bin, with all of the other VHS tapes that nobody plays anymore.  See what I mean?  The suspension-of-disbelief holds you while you're watching, but the second it loses its grasp of you--you think, "Huh?"

This movie wasn't like that, although in this case, you are asked to buy the fact that the original bad person was a witch.  It's mentioned just once or twice, and the rapidity of the movie makes you accept it because you don't have time not to.  I caught this snare while watching it, and I didn't buy it, but I do buy that there are just some very bad and angry people out there, and I do believe that--if ghosts exist at all--than those very bad and angry people will become very bad and angry ghosts.  That's a lot of ifs, but it all makes sense to me.  (In a philosophical, If and Only If [IFF] kind of way, but whatever.)  The point is that it's all kind of plausible, if you think that way to begin with.  I walked in believing in a very solid Maybe that ghosts exist, and I wasn't swayed either way by watching this.  I'm going to guess that whatever it is you believe about the whole ghost / possession thing, you'll feel the exact same way afterwards.

There was a scene where a priest tells a guy he can perform an exorcism on his authority, once it's established that the okay from the Vatican would take too long to save the possessed person.  This of course a Catholic priest cannot do.  That has to come from the Vatican.  (This was a minor beef of mine with Season Two of American Horror Story, a blog entry to come.)  But, whatever.  At least the guy, or the priest, doesn't just perform the exorcism without even mentioning the Vatican or the process.  You expect these types of things in horror movies, and probably in movies in general.  You either go with it, or you don't.  I suspect that you will here.

There's a creepy tree, a creepy attic, a creepy basement, a creepy crawlspace, a creepy armoire / wardrobe piece of furniture, a creepy-looking thing in the daughters' room, and a very, very creepy doll, which thankfully is more of a symbol of evil than an actual participant or used object.  That's already been done well (Poltergeist) and badly (Chucky) and I just wasn't in the mood for it.  In real life, there was a very creepy-looking barn, where someone apparently hanged herself (or, as the movie frequently and annoyingly said, "hung herself," but, whatever, I'm over it).  This barn was not used in the movie.  I probably won't show it in the blog about my visit, as it isn't my property, and, like I said, there's apparently an old couple living there now, and they deserve their privacy--which they won't get, of course, but I don't have to play a part in that.

Incidentally, this information about the current owners came from a few people who had driven for almost three hours--from Schenectady, New York--only to have to leave fewer than five minutes after they stopped.  I hope it was worth it for them.

So, if you want to be creeped-out and chilled, if not a little jumpy afterwards, this movie is the one for you.  Critics have heavily praised it, and Rotten Tomatoes has given it a very high rating percentage.

I would, too.

If you've seen the movie, please tell me what you thought of it.

Plague Tidbits

Photo: A boundary stone marking the border of the village of Eyam, England.  The high sheriff would leave food at this rock for the entire village, since the village itself voted to not let anyone in or out until the plague passed.  For a bit of this remarkable story, see my blog entry here.


A few things I thought were interesting as I continue to write and research my WIP (trilogy?) re: the same in our time--and through all time.  You'll see.  Some of the info. culled from Geraldine Brooks' Year of Wonders and Daniel Defoe's Journal of the Plague Years.  They're both fiction, though the former is infamously researched and realistic and the latter is fact masquerading as fiction, masquerading as fact.  Check it out to see what I mean.  They are both well-written and highly recommended.

--Two watchmen had to guard a plague house, so that nobody went in and nobody went out.  In many areas, they did this in eight-hour shifts, per house.  Roughly, from 10 pm to 6 am; from 6 am to 2 pm; from 2 pm to 10 pm.

--Stories abound about attempted escapes from such houses.  One I see frequently is that the trapped would lower a noose from a window, somehow get it around a guard's neck, and either strangle him, or otherwise keep him occupied until someone successfully escaped. 

--As is the usual about stories like these, you wonder about a few things, like: What about the other guard?  How would you get the rope around his neck?  How would you keep it there while he struggled?  And why wouldn't the guards confiscate things, like rope, before they guard the place?  And where would they get, and sustain, enough men so that six of them could guard each and every plague house?

--At first, you went to the wakes and funerals of the deceased.  But, after the plague hit and so many people died so quickly, it was impossible to do this.  By then, open pits were dug and bodies just thrown in, like you see in the movies about wars, the Holocaust, etc.

--The sick and despondent would at times throw themselves in these pits, and die there.  Some would lay there as dirt got thrown over them, and die suffocating.

--Until the plague hit, the depth of graves was not uniform.  But the authorities insisted on six feet separating the dead from the living; that is, there had to be at least six feet separating the body from the people walking over it.  The grave wasn't six feet deep, as is the common misconception; it must've been a little deeper than that.  There's six feet between the top of the body and the dirt that marks the grave.  Hence the phrase "six feet under" today.  And the practice still continues.

--The authorities would openly lie about the death count, vastly underestimating it to avoid panic (or for whatever reason).  The real numbers came from the gravediggers at the chapel, at the church's graveyard, or at the massive pits.  And so these people were the ones you went to for accurate information.  (Hence the title of my MS.)

--Speaking of graveyards, it was common practice in England and New England (and probably Europe) to bury most of the dead in their church's graveyard.  When this became impossible, because either they ran out of room, or because nobody from the parish was left alive to bury them, they were buried wherever, often in a family plot next to the house.  This then became a common practice, whether the dead died from the plague or not.  (This is especially true with the TB outbreak in New England, esp. RI and NH, from my research.) 

--In Boston and parts of RI, some took the separation of Church and State seriously enough that the dead were buried in the Common Ground, not near the churches.  (Some of the very rich and famous early New Englanders are buried in Boston's Commons.)  The practice of burying the dead in one large community graveyard didn't hit America until the later 1800s.

Well, there's much more, but that's it for now.

H.P. Lovecraft

H.P. Lovecraft was one weird dude.  After having read a lot about him (and after having bought a collection of his works), it seems that "weird" doesn't seem to be quite enough.  And that's me saying this.  He seems to have been a victim of a sort of social anxiety disorder, except from among his letters it seems that he also had a "nervous disposition" while alone, or while living with his mother and aunts.  His mother's mental and emotional spiral wouldn't have helped, and she ended up in Butler, the same asylum his father died in--though his father undoubtedly had syphilis, while he and his mother were simply...nervous.  (Mary Karr's mother was apparently the same, and the word "nervous" was used to mean someone who was barely functionally insane.)

Lovecraft married and moved to NYC, but the marriage didn't last long, and his wife complained that he was more comfortable communicating with her through letters.  He moved back to RI; she moved to Cleveland and later to CA after she re-married.  He then proceeded to write maybe more letters than anyone else, ever.  One scholar places the number of letters at over 200,000; one wonders how much more fiction he could have written.  Yet, he was more comfortable writing letters, and getting comfortable seemed to be his life's work.  His letters, perhaps more than his writing, may prove to be his most lasting legacy.

His fame doesn't rest upon that much fiction, and much of that fiction is just plain bad.  Yet the good is very good, of its type.  Storyline and plot were not important.  More than Poe, Lovecraft was interested in atmosphere and feeling, and he got those across very well, as well as, or better than, even Poe.  Reading Lovecraft is to feel dread, even if you don't know what you're feeling dread about, exactly.  Reading his best is like having a nightmare you don't understand, but that which makes you fear and dread.

His fiction and letters had a major similarity: fear of others, or, more exactly, Others.  His most ardent fans are forced to admit his rampant racism; his racism is flat-out fear.  Scholars point to his NYC days, in which he was jobless.  He felt immigrants took job opportunities from him.  Probably it was his demeanor and nervousness.  Would you hire this guy?  Upon returning to RI, he quickly decided that he would work from home, writing, ghostwriting, editing and corresponding.  He did not ever become otherwise employed.  Due to his mother and aunts' spoiling of him, he perhaps never had to.  (To be a fly on that wall...)

When he knew that death was close by (colon cancer), he appointed a teenage fan from Florida to be his literary executor, which one scholar said was like hiring you or I to lead an army platoon into battle.  This kid promptly gave over most of the works to August Derleth, Lovecraft's aunts, and a university, thereby causing one of the most confusing copyright wrangles in the history of literature.  Who owns the rights?  The writing from the 20s, nobody, as they are now in the public domain.  Perhaps everything now is.  Or the aunts, or Derleth, got cheated.  It is further now established that the Cthulu Mythos is more Derleth than Lovecraft, which makes sense to me, as Lovecraft often stated that he was after atmosphere and feeling, plot be damned, and the Mythos stories clearly show a consistent and connected sort of plotline, in a Good vs. Evil sort of way.  Lovecraft, an avowed atheist and overall nihilist (and elitist), probably did not believe in a good vs. evil distinction.

His stories, like his life, defy simple explanation, besides to say that they are an exercise in supreme oddity.

Manuscript Info. Garnered from More Free Stuff

Okay, for this as of yet untitled ms.--maybe The Gravediggers?--we'll start with the exhumation of 6 or 7 bodies in 1888 RI, as the father of these people had had a disturbing dream, that he'd had an orchard (which he had) but that half of the trees in his orchard would soon die.  He recognizes this as an extended dream-metaphor, thank you, Freud, and this makes him listen more to his family's eerie complaints.  His wife has been getting sick, and 5 or 6 of their children had already died.  Sarah had been the first, about 19 years old; another daughter was next, though this daughter complains of seeing Sarah, at night, sitting with her (on her?) in bed, causing her pain.  This daughter dies, another gets sick, and has the same complaint.  The last straw comes when the mother gets sick, and a son, who is of age and about to marry a girl in a neighboring town.  The mother complains of the same thing about Sarah.  So all of the bodies are exhumed, and all have their hearts burned on a nearby rock in the family cemetary, and all the problems stop. The mother recovers, but the son, after marrying the girl in that neighboring town and becoming a promising young farmer, dies. 

Nothing is ever recorded about his death, so, ah ha!, that's how "it" spreads.  Vampires, consumption (tb), or plague, I don't know.  But I'm hoping for all three.  Other isolated cases (one family member) will be mentioned also, but only in the form of consumption, to highlight the panic, but to also show how the panic and ignorance of others hides the true demon.

This all sounds like the hokey local superstition and folklore that it is, but I can make this work in fiction.  I'm pretty sure.


This summary of information was obtained through the materials gathered from the free e-books in my free e-Google.  Though I understand that Google may one day soon take over the world--the entire company would make a decent James Bond villain--I have to admit that it is incredibly convenient and useful.  I've got a couple of emails, my other blog site, and my free books all there.  And when I write, I save that writing to a flashdrive, to my emails, to my harddrive, to my Scrivener, and to my free Google documents storage.  I do not work for Google, I swear.  Not only did I get the above composite information from those free books, but I can also get the clothing, speech, beliefs, etc. from the very old books that I saved for free there, too.  My goodness is this convenient and useful.  I repeat: I do not work for Google.

So this is the beginning of yet another new work.  Wish me well, everyone, as I have a tendency to start new stuff with really good ideas and then stop them cold when I get bored with them.  This stuff here, for example, is the root of WIP 7, all novel-length.  I hope to do some combining and shuffling, but, boy, I don't know.