Imagine the last bite of Macaroni and Cheese, topped with bread crumbs, next to my Iced Mocha and a bookstore copy of Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes (I decided it was time to read this classic by one of my favorite "new" authors)..

Imagine it, because Wordpress is having a problem with Amazon's S3 image server, which caused all of my pics to go AWOL. I am told the problem should be fixed sometime..hopefully soon..

In the meanwhile, I just wanted to remind everyone that Brian King's Adopt-A-Lock campaign is going strong. You can place your bid's here. 

Mine is in. Outbid me if you can!

You may also have noticed a countdown in the sidebar. Once where I have obviously either had a few too many margaritas, or am just simply numerically challenged. I think it said '5 Days' for about three days in a row. What can I say? I've bitten off quite a bit this past couple of weeks.

So the new header went up because I like to tease, but I also like to deliver.  

Honest.

In 4 days, something wicked this way comes.

Wicked bad, or wicked good... it'll be up to you to decide which you think but be warned... the fraccy brain has schemed for some time and there most definitely is something happening here in a few days. The new banner is just a tiny, tiny taste.

Dragonfly was conceived and written on two continents, on opposite sides of the world. Come along with me on the official fan tour of historic locations relating to the book! What you're looking at here is one of two "Birthplaces of Dragonfly." This is the one that's easier to get to if you live in Japan. This little grove of trees is in front of the Humanities building at Niigata University's Ikarashi campus. As the story goes, I had come to the university that day with two friends who were attending a special seminar on how to make kimchee. This is so far in the dim past now that I don't remember why I tagged along, since I had not intended to go to the kimchee session. While my two friends were indoors learning how to bury cabbage and spices with the full intention of digging them up again, I was wandering around in the location you see, and the ideas for the book began to flood over me. It started, as I recall, with the two names Dragonfly and Mothkin. I glimpsed in my head something like a cutaway diagram of cellars or levels descending into the Earth. I knew Dragonfly was a girl who was going to journey down and down into a place that would be peopled with werewolves, vampires, and other Hallowe'en boogey-folk.

An early idea that I later discarded was that Dragonfly would spend much of her life in Harvest Moon -- that she would live, have a job, marry, and have children there. I imagined her pulling a cart with onions to sell. The phrase "Onion Years" swirled around in my mind. In the finished book, Dragonfly does get into a bit of agricultural commerce with Sylva, but she doesn't become the mother of a new generation of werewolves. (If they had had a child, what would they have named the little one? Maybe "Glamis" after Grandpa Cawdor, in keeping with the Macbeth theme? Or perhaps it would have been twins, Mac and Beth?)

What follows here are some views of fall in the place I grew up. This is what autumn looked like to me as a child. So this is the other half of the tour: the sights and settings that colored the (overabundant) descriptions in Dragonfly. I loved the fall -- not as much as summer, but I loved it -- and Hallowe'en was its crowning glory. I'd already be thinking of costumes in July or August. I'd figure out what I wanted to dress up as. It was usually something from whatever book I was reading: a Skull-Bearer from The Sword of Shannara,  Gandalf, C-3PO, the shark from Jaws (those are all real examples). . . . Mom and Dad would lend their grownup engineering expertise. Dad would build things like Skull-Bearer wings, and Mom would open the trove of ancient family clothing and props. She also knew how to shop the Goodwill and Salvation Army stores for excellent costume raw materials--such as the Styrofoam dinosaur head that I wore in one Hallowe'en parade, or the shaggy fur coat that, when snipped and re-stitched in the right places, became a wondrous full-body gorilla suit for my gradeschool-sized body. Dressed as the gorilla, I emerged from the darkness near Memorial School where people were lining up for the annual parade, and I remember some kids reacting with a bit of genuine fear.

What a wonderful holiday! The parade is a long tradition in our hometown, going back well before my time. When I was little, one family heirloom was a hideous rubber crone mask -- wrinkled brow, melancholy eyes, cucumberish nose, jutting warty chin, etc. My maternal grandmother used it once to freak out her husband. He was a Taylorville policeman. On the night of the Hallowe'en parade, he was directing traffic at the parade lineup. His wife, my grandma, approached him in full costume, wearing the mask (which apparently he didn't know about), and proceeded to "get fresh" with him--patting his face, being very clingy, etc. I smile to picture this proper, serious policeman (in the black-and-white photo I've seen of him, he wears his uniform, a pair of glasses with tiny round frames, and a Hitler moustache) beginning to squirm as his unknown "assailant" begins to cross the line from holiday merriment into "This-is-most-irregular."

I could never stop with just one costume for the Hallowe'en season. I'd develop at least two: one for trick-or-treating and one for the school party. (Sometimes there'd be a third for the parade.) Although I knew full well the costumes I'd be making would be cooler than anything "off the rack," I could never resist ogling the bright, simple suits that a lot of kids bought last-minute at the stores downtown. (People bought things downtown in those days, from the stores all around the town Square. This was long before we had a Wal-Mart.) You know those costumes, I'm sure: the face-masks secured by an elastic string around the head, the garish two-piece attire whose designs and colors don't even try to simulate what the character is supposed to look like. For example, Frankenstein's monster--instead of wearing ragged, mismatched, stolen clothing, the dime-store monster wears a shiny yellow shirt with his own menacing portrait on the chest, and scary-letters proclaiming him "FRANKENSTEIN!"

Well, I'd generally beg my mom to buy me one of those. If my cousin was visiting, he'd ask for one, too. Mom never indulged us in this request. She'd say, "No. You don't want one of those sleazy costumes. We'll make a better one." Kids, of course, are always on the lookout for the proper names of things; I latched onto the term "sleazy costumes" and assumed it was the proper name for that type of dime-store costume . . . perhaps even a brand name. My mom often told the story of how my cousin and I ran after her along the bustling sidewalks of our town, both of us wailing, "I WANT A SLEAZY HALLOWE'EN COSTUME!" (We never got them. We ended up with not-at-all-sleazy costumes.)

Anyway, I wrote the first 80 or so pages of Dragonfly in Japan on my Ricoh N-10 word processor, a machine about the size and weight of a microwave oven. Most of the rest, as I recall, was written in Taylorville that summer, some at our dining room table, some at my aunt's house, and some outdoors on a card table set up just behind "the cave," the root cellar/storm shelter you see pictured here. (That may have been the year I bought the 75-foot extension cord to enable me to write outdoors. All through my twenties, I loved the idea of writing out in the open air, in the wondrous lights of nature -- the golden sunlight, the purple shade, the green glow of leaves.)

Here's the General Education building at Niigata University as it appears today. This is where I do most of my teaching and a fair amount of my writing-related thinking.

Naming (especially in fantasy) is fun. To this day, I'm still struck at odd times with names for Untoward pairs and wish I'd used them in the book. I honestly don't know why Dragonfly (the character) has that nickname. I liked "Mothkin" because of its suggestion of someone "kin" to the fluttering moths of the summer night, winging out of the black to beat against the screens or cling there. It seemed a good image for a dark, streetwise Agent of the Peaceable Kingdom as Mothkin is. Angels, I thought as a kid, shouldn't all be dressed in pristine white with never a hair out of place. And in church Christmas plays, they shouldn't be portrayed by the blonde girl. I always wanted to cast an angel to look more like a veteran prize fighter, more like a pirate. Finally with Mothkin, I got my chance.

"Sam Hain," of course, is a sort of joke based on "Samhain," the Celtic Lord of the Dead. (I know that the Celtic name isn't pronounced like "Sam Hain" looks. But Hain himself wouldn't be above adopting such a name as a pun of his own, so I think it's justifiable.)

Uncle Henry was based on a character of the same name, appearance, and profession in my first real short story as a legal-aged writer, a piece called "Maybe Tonight" (which makes a good performance piece to be read aloud on Hallowe'en night). But it later occurred to me that Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz also had an Uncle Henry. I don't think it was a conscious homage. It's more a tribute to the first name of one of my two favorite college professors. Uncle Henry's appearance is based on the psychologist who evaluated me for the Volunteer Youth Ministry program to determine if I was fit for living overseas in a foreign culture.

Sylva's name, of course, is meant to evoke woodlands and wildness. Eagerly Meagerly -- well, my idea there is the juxtaposition of eagerness -- to the point of being ravenous and rabid -- with meagerness, a state of inadequacy or lack. If you think of a skeletal ghoul tormented by an insatiable hunger, you'll have pretty much the picture I intended. Mr. Snicker: the double meaning of "laughing" and the onomatopoeic closing of a pair of scissors -- he's "one who snicks."

"Noyes" is another of my favorite names in the book. It struck me as perfect for a vampire. First, it sounds like "Noise," and he is a whiny, verbose character. Second, it's a combination of "No" and "Yes," which seems right for one who is undead--both dead and yet animate.

The two biggest influences on Dragonfly? I'd say Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes and Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn -- particularly the part about the Midnight Carnival.

Until next time! 

I love it..

In other news, God is angry with Burma and China this month. Srsly.

In still other news, I am an alcoholic.

If you didn't know that already, you probably don't know me.

Why do 30 chicken wings, 8 beers and 2 shots of Jameson sound delightful on Monday afternoon? I don't know, but I'm guessing it has something to do with the reason I chose to become a writer.

I'm currently reading Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury. I love anything in the magical realism genre but it is a bit young for me, still I'm getting some inspiration. .

Book update: I plan to finish my novel by my birthday in September. 4 reals.

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Taken from the "Alive in Athens" DVD.

Iced Earth

Something Wicked this way comes

1998

Alive in Athens

1999

Very much enjoyed talking about Jack Clayton to students the other day. First lecture of term is usually a bit shambolic, and the room and equipment didn't help here, but Clayton's films are quite accessible and it's certainly easy to find good scenes to extract: there are so many stand-out moments in THE INNOCENTS and maybe especially THE PUMPKIN EATER that it's hard to limit oneself to one or two per film.

My CD of Georges Delerue's original score to SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES just arrived, so I'm listening to that as I write. Pretty criminal of Disney to have fired the sublime Delerue and hired James Horner instead, but I will admit to rather liking the Horner score, which has a pleasingly Halloweeny sound.

Since Disney never throw ANYTHING away, the idea of a restored director's cut of SWTWC is perfectly practical. Removing the V.O. and changing the score would be very simple, and would already make a bug difference. The only thing standing in the way of this is the fact that there's no obvious money to be made from such a project -- unlike BLADE RUNNER, this film hasn't grown in reputation since it's first, unsuccessful release. (I remember waiting for it to play Edinburgh, but it never even came.)

Looking at Clayton's work as a whole was a pleasure -- bits link up in unusual ways. The fly that buzzes on the soundtrack of THE INNOCENTS, presaging the appearance of ghosts, moves onscreen for THE GREAT GATSBY, where it alights on a sandwich mysteriously abandoned in the echoing mansion house.

The influence of the past on the present, embodied by those ghosts, receives an echo in THE LONELY PASSION OF JUDITH HEARNE, when Judith's drinking friend appears as a shadowy, blurred reflection in the background of a shot, fading up as Judith remembers her.

Clayton's fondness for overlapping images became more obvious, from the lap-dissolved dream in THE INNOCENTS to the slow mix that takes us from a giant billboard image of bespectacled eyes (the Eyes of God) to the blood-smeared headlights of Gatsby's car. A slightly overdone effect, maybe, and one that anticipates even more vulgar pictorial effects in Coppola's DRACULA (Coppola scripted Clayton's GATSBY).

But despite these interconnections, Clayton's was such a discontinuous career that one can't help feeling that vital parts are missing, films that would help make sense of the whole oevre if Clayton had been allowed to make them: projects like CASUALTIES OF WAR and THE TENANT, later realised by other filmmakers; projects never yet realised, like adaptations of Shirley Jackson's WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE, Jessamyn West's MASSACRE AT FALL CREEK, or James Kennaway's SILENCE.

(All this from Neil Sinyard's excellent book, Jack Clayton.)

SILENCE was killed by Barry Diller when he took charge of 20th Century Fox. Diller is rumoured to be the model for Mr Burns in The Simpsons, and the fact that he cancelled the project without even reading the script caused Clayton to throw several chairs through that executives plate glass office window.

The story of a mute black woman known only as "Silence", the unmade film acquired a prophetic significance when Clayton himself lost the power of speech after a stroke. Re-learning language and re-starting his career was an incredible feat -- rather than regretting that Clayton made so few films, maybe I should just be grateful he was able to make as many as he did.

Stills from THE INNOCENTS and THE PUMPKIN EATER.

My head is an incredible jumble! I feel like I have been melted down by the Button Moulder.

I start lecturing again tomorrow (and we'll see how I keep this blog going once THAT happens) so I started preparing my first lecture, on Jack Clayton. I love THE INNOCENTS especially and THE PUMPKIN EATER and am pretty wild about most of the others, and I've never done a talk about him so it seemed like fun. I was looking at THE GREAT GATSBY (featuring the infant Absolute Beginner Patsy Kensit) again, trying to choose extracts, and I got sucked into it and suddenly realised I'd better stop and go and see I'M NOT THERE, as had been my plan for the day.

Off to the Cameo!* This is a legendary Edinburgh art-house/fleapit. My parents saw THE RUNNING JUMPING STANDING STILL FILM along with THE SEVEN SAMURAI here (an unlikely pairing). It used to be run by a wild entrepreneur and showman called Jim Poole, who would turn the heating up for desert films, and other feats of William Castle-style Sensurround legerdemain. Yet I can't see any obvious reason why, for this film, the auditorium was freezing cold and smelled of wee. These sensations disappeared as the film began though, returning with renewed intensity as the end credits rolled (to the sound of "Like a Rolling Stone") and I realised I'd been in a state of sensory suspension for the whole film, absorbing only what the film's makers delivered to me through my ears and eyes. 

I don't feel equal to delivering any kind of useful thoughts on this film just yet, which is a Phantasmagoric Cavort through various aspects of Bob Dylan's life and art, because a) it's pretty complex and b) I don't know much about Dylan and c) I have managed to amplify the rather weird state the film induced in me by way of artistic overload:

On the bus home, I had the gated drums of Siouxie and the Banshee's Peekaboo and the lovely Charlotte Gainsbourg singing to me on my Nano, while I read a little memoir by Ralph Richardson (favourite role: Peer Gynt) and the illuminations of the Balmoral Hotel and Edinburgh Castle glowed, and I thanked my lucky stars again for living in the city where W.C. Fields first tasted whiskey.

Then home, lighting a fire and finishing off THE GREAT GATSBY, which has marvellous people and moments, even if it doesn't entirely grip. Fitzgerald is referenced in Haynes' film, but I thought on the whole that SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES, a marvellous film made by Clayton and partially unmade by the suits at Disneycorps, is closer to Haynes' film, which has a definite flavour of the Fellini-esque about it. EIGHT AND A HALF is the big stylistic cue for the Cate Blanchett scenes, but then this circus flavour invades the Richard Gere sequence, supplanting most traces of Peckinpah (though the presence of Kris Kristofferson as narrator provides another reminder of PAT GARRETT AND BILLY THE KID). I guess the blend of Americana and the carnivalesque is what brought Clayton's film to mind.

You can probably expect more on the neglected Clayton, and hopefully some more ordered thoughts on Haynes' film, which I kind of loved, soon. Or soon-ish.

ONE thought: Cate Blanchett has rightly had much favourable attention for her work here, but I think she has an advantage over her co-stars because drag is pretty well always interesting. Not that she isn't remarkable. But I want to say that Marcus Carl Franklin as "Woodie Guthrie" is also a true Star -- when he's on it's like someone pierced the celluloid and let a VERY BRIGHT LIGHT shine through.

*One very nice thing about this picture house is that there's generally one of my students or ex-students working there. This time it was Clair. Hello, if you're reading this!

The array of frightening and suspenseful movies is unending this time of year.  What is on your plate for an eerie and scary night of Halloween movie delight?

Below is my Top 10 list of Movies to watch for Halloween fun.  I will warn you that I not a big horror movie fan, so you won't find much in the way of slasher films on my list.  Feel free to add your favorites in the comment section below.

1.  Something Wicked this Way Comes
Ray Bradbury's tale of two boys who discover the secrets of an evil carnival where everyone in their town goes to make their dreams come true tops my viewing list.  This movie gave me goose bumps as a kid and for that reason alone I watch it every year at Halloween.

2.  Sleepy Hollow
Although the story of the headless horseman has been told many times, Tim Burton's version is still my favorite.

3.  Scream
As I said I'm too big of a chicken to watch many slasher films, but the way this movie pokes fun at them keeps me laughing too much to be too afraid.

4.  Practical Magic
Not really a scary movie (unless you get on the wrong side of these witches), Practical Magic is a fun look at the love lives of (as my husband would say) two hot witches.

5.  Brothers Grimm
The dark and scary said of all our favorite fairytales.  How can you miss this one on Halloween?

6.  Van Helsing
This movie has all your favorite monsters -- vampires, werewolves, even Frankenstein. 

7.  Underworld
A look at the epic battle between Vampires and Werewolves.  Who knew the undead's life was so complicated?

8.  The Lost Boys
Okay, I have a thing for vampires.  But you have to admit this movie has one good-looking group of vamps.  And beside, who wants to miss the '80s hijinx of the two Coreys.

9.  Ghostbusters
What's Halloween without a few ghosts and spirits?  And don't forget the StayPuft Marshmallow Man.  Hmmm . . . suddenly I'm in the mood for s'mores. 

10.  It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown
I don't care how old you are.  It's not Halloween until you've seen Linus waiting in the pumpkin patch for the Great Pumpkin.

So now you know my DVD line up for the weekend, what's yours?

Those immortal words by FDR in the title have suddenly become very important to me.

I hope this gets to people that need it as fast as possible. You are not crazy. Do not let fear engulf your life for it may be fertilizing and feeding something ugly. It may be a matter of life or death. Pull back from the fear signals that the world is sending you. They are not real if you don't let them be. Embrace love, trust, courage, hope, forgiveness (mostly for yourself) in whatever manner is most powerful for you. Work on recognizing the flavor of negative thought loops and simply say STOP when you feel them coming on! Read uplifting stories of human love, forgiveness, kindness, compassion, passion, empathy and bravery and dive into the emotions that they provide then remember them and hold them over and over and realize that these are the ones that are really part of you. Dive into a light cloud of love and feel yourself floating beautifully and safely into it, as far as you want to go. Don't stop striving for lightness of being, if you get down pull yourself up. Love is greater than fear. Just do it!

See the tree of your own crisis, that only you can solve, instead of the forest of all the conflicting signals coming into your life that are feeding your fears through guilt. These vectors can be from all places, family, friends, religious figures, television, internet. Seek out and focus on uplifting sources that you know are resonant with your true self and focus on these. Again, they can be the same types of sources as the negative ones. Single sources often give mixed messages, trying to fool you that they are good, when really they are trying to send you on a wild goose chase of guilt, energy loss and fear. Good sources often give off a little bit of mixed signal so that they are not so obvious. Learn discernment. Don't fall for grail quest type ruses, they will only run you ragged, you know, Da Vinci Code type stuff.

YOU ARE NOT ALONE, YOU ARE NOT ALONE, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Here are some links from Tim Boucher's Blog that I hope are helpful:

Lost In The Immense Suffering

What The Hell Happened To Me?