Wednesday, July 31, 2024

Japanese Giants Gallery

Many, if not most, of the folks who visit my blog might remember that I first dove into the publishing arena with Japanese Giants, a fanzine I created when I was in ninth grade — Spring 1974, to be precise. It was an 18-page, offset-printed love letter to giant Japanese monsters, featuring part one of a Destroy All Monsters filmbook, reviews of the TV shows Ultraman and Johnny Sokko & His Flying Robot, a couple of editorials, and a bunch of art that several of my friends and I drew for the issue. Inspired by my good friend Greg Shoemaker's renowned Japanese Fantasy Film Journal, I hoped that Japanese Giants might go on to become prominent in the fanzine landscape of the mid-1970s. And it actually did, though not quite in the way I had foreseen.

I sold a good number of the 200 printed copies of issue #1, but it wasn't enough to cover the full cost of producing it, and my allowance in those days couldn't quite make up the remainder. I sadly resolved to pack it in, but more or less out of the blue, a young gentleman named Brad Boyle from Salt Lake City, Utah, stepped in and offered to take the Japanese Giants torch and run with it. He produced issue #s 2, 3, and 4 before he, too, let go of the reins. By this time, I had become friends with diehard daikaiju fans Ed Godziszewski and Bill Gudmundson, who thought that, as a trio, we should keep JG going. Ed was a few years older than Bill and me, and he had a real job with substantial disposable income. So, the three of us became the official Japanese Giants Guys, and the magazine continued — the last few issues under Ed's sole editorship — until issue #10.

Here are the covers of the full set of issues. Note that issue #8 — possibly the rarest of them — sold out quickly, and I have no idea whatever happened to my copy. What you are looking at gentlemen, is the cover of issue #8, as science has been able to reconstruct it for you...

Issue #1                                                                      Issue #2

Issue #3                                                                      Issue #4

Issue #5                                                                      Issue #6

Issue #7                                                                      Issue #8

Issue #9                                                                    Issue #10  

Here are a few links to sites with info and images from and about Japanese Giants:

VANTAGE POINT INTERVIEWS: Documenting Giants from Japan! Stephen Mark Rainey on Creating the Celebrated Fanzine Japanese Giants

VANTAGE POINT INTERVIEWS: Memoirs of a Godzilla Fandom Pioneer! Bradford Boyle on Publishing the Seminal Fanzine Japanese Giants

TOHO KINGDOM Interview with Ed Godziszewski

WIKIPEDIA: Japanese Giants

Tuesday, July 30, 2024

Many...Monsters!

Godzilla vs. Hedorah (a.k.a. the Smog Monster)
As far back as the early 1970s, I had amassed a pretty huge collection of daikaiju movie memorabilia, including the then-available plastic monster models from Aurora — Godzilla, Rodan, and King Ghidorah. And in the early-to-mid-1980s when I lived in Chicago, I did a lot of modeling, primarily military aircraft, giant mecha from various anime franchises, and... daikaiju! Inspired by my good friend and roommate, Bill Gudmundson, I put together a few Japanese monster resin kits, brought to us by Mr. Miyawaki, who owned Kayodo modeling company, and scratch built a handful of my own. After the 1980s, I pretty much quit collecting, well, anything.

Relatively recently, however, I took a shine to some of the available daikaiju figures from Japan. All too many of them are way beyond my price range, but I have occasionally picked up some of the less-expensive figures and customized them a bit. And these can be fun to pop into some composited digital scenes, which I'm including here just for the hell of it.
MechaGodzilla, Angilas, King Seesar, and Godzilla from Godzilla vs. MechaGodzilla
Gigan from Godzilla vs. Gigan
Godzilla vs. Angilas from Godzilla Raids Again (No, I don't care what Toho has done, I will not spell it "Anguirus"; Angilas was good for a lot of years, and it's perfectly proper.)
Baragon from Frankenstein Conquers the World
MechaGodzilla 2, Titanosaurus, and Godzilla from Terror of MechaGodzilla
Gorosaurus from King Kong Escapes
Godzilla and MechaGodzilla from Godzilla vs. MechaGodzilla 2
Hedorah 1971 vs. Hedorah 2004

Saturday, July 27, 2024

Miscreants in Midland

Monday, July 22, 2024
Yes, we're off to Midland, MI, again. Ms. B.'s folks are aging and need some extra help these days, so Kimberly goes up every couple of months. I accompany her from time to time and do what I can to help keep them living in their home of many years.

To get reasonably affordable flights, we have to pick those that go at the least convenient times, almost always before the ass-crack of dawn. We packed our bags yesterday, rose this morning at 3:30 a.m., and set out on the road, bound for Greensboro's Piedmont Triad International. We had a little bonus time this morning because our flight left at 6:30 a.m., rather than the customary 6:00 a.m. We connected at Chicago O'Hare, with less than an hour between our arrival and subsequent departure.

Both flights went off without a hitch, for which we were very grateful. After the big Windows crash this past weekend, there was still evidence of glitches in the airline systems; most all the info screens were still blank, and lots of bedraggled folks huddled and/or slept in various corners all over O'Hare, where we made our connection. There but for the grace of Yog...

Anyway, Del & Fern met us at Saginaw International, and we headed to the homestead. A quick lunch of sandwiches for us, and then I took a lengthy walk around the neighborhood. For the rest of the afternoon, we hung out with the folks, and then Ms. B. and I headed out for a relatively early dinner. We'd set our sights on Molasses, our favorite local BBQ destination, but they were closed for some remodeling. Hang it all! So we moseyed over to nearby Whichcraft, known for their plentiful stock of local brews and spirits. I tried their BBQ sandwich, which wasn't bad, but hardly of Molasses caliber. Their chipotle vodka Bloody Mary was also just so-so; thus, I can only give them a 3.5 out of 5 this time around. Last time we were there, my choices were apparently superior. Afterward, I found a cache.

The rest of the evening was our typical hangout at the homestead: watching television with the folks — mostly game shows tonight — and enjoying a spot of good wine. Since it had been quite a long day since 3:30 a.m., I retired early.

Tuesday, July 23, 2024
Old man and cache find #15,000

Up early for me, not so much for Ms. B. I made a nice breakfast of bacon, egg, and toast, with a bucket of coffee, and then headed out for some geocaching. I needed five to reach my 15,000-find milestone, so I set my sights on the Pine Haven Recreation Area, an extensive trail system out toward Sanford. I snagged a handful of caches along the trail, culminating with my 15,000th, which turned out to be a clever, well-constructed cache, worthy of a milestone find. I also discovered one of the world's biggest caches of mosquitoes, for the woods were full of them, and they came at me with far more vehemence than we typically encounter down south — and ours are not slouches in the vehemence department. And I had gone out without bug spray. Oy!

From there, I trucked over to the nearby Père Marquette Rail Trail, which runs thirty miles between Midland and Clare, with a geocache placed every tenth of a mile along most of it. I've cached several sections, but there are still many miles left for me to hunt. Along the trail, the summer growth was so thick and high that, in some places, getting to the caches was worse than problematic, so I only claimed five on today's outing. Again, the mosquito assault on my person was a thing out of some dark legend. Next time out, there will be bug spray. Lots of it.

These days, Del & Fern prefer to have their biggest meal of the day in the afternoon, so back at Casa di Brugger, I prepared a grand dinner of Chicken Piccata, which they've enjoyed in the past. It turned out quite good, so perhaps they'll continue to claim me as their son-in-law for a while longer.

Later in the afternoon, Ms. B. and I drove up to Calvary Cemetery, a few miles north of Midland, so I could snag a few more caches and she could wander among the graves. I found several, and she found a very friendly groundhog, which seemed quite happy to frolick around with her. Plus she found some cool old graves.

Shortly after our return home, Kim's aunt Cheryl and cousin Beverly came over for a visit, and there were stories. Many, many stories. If I ever need to write blackmail stories about certain folks of my acquaintance, I may have some ammunition.

This evening, the rain came down, but we hauled ourselves out for a couple of drinks at Three Bridges Distillery and Grape Beginnings, another couple of our regular local favorite hangouts. In the commons are outside these establishments, there is a Cornhole game setup. So we played Cornhole. Oh, yes we did! And then... the old homestead TV lounge.
Heading out on the trail at Pine Haven Recreational Area
Damned Rodan's Chicken Piccata over angel hair
Ms. B's new groundhog friend
Some of the many ghost pipes Ms. B. photographed

Wednesday, July 24, 2024
Having snagged geocache #15,000, my next goal is claiming 500 caches in Michigan for a challenge cache in Greensboro that requires you to have found at least 1,000 caches in one state and at least 500 caches in two others. Well, I have in excess of 11,000 in North Carolina and over 1,600 in Virginia; Michigan is next in line, since I've worked my way up to almost 500 finds over many trips here. As of first thing this morning, I needed 12 more to reach 500. So, bright and early, I headed out to the rural back roads of northern Midland County where tons of park & grab caches offer opportunities to increase one's cache find count with relative ease. Complicating matters, however, are that they are spread out over many miles and most of them are quite old, so lots of them have gone missing over the years without being replaced.

My first target was a newly published cache that one other local hunter had sought, but he'd logged a DNF (Did Not Find). He is a highly experienced geocacher, so I figured if he couldn't find it, the cache is not there. Regardless, I decided to give it a try. It was a loverly little neighborhood in the middle of nowhere, and I enjoyed visiting the place. However, as I fully expected, I found nothing — well, other than a couple of neighbors who came out of their house and gave me some looks for which "unwelcoming" is far too kind. I think it's safe to say they had no idea there was supposedly a cache hidden there. So, I retreated without a find. However, at the end of the run, I came home with a ten finds, which left me with only two to qualify for the second state with 500 finds.

For our midday dinner, Kimberly made shrimp tacos. Her Aunt Jeannie (sister of Aunt Cheryl, who visited yesterday) joined us. A pleasant visit.

After lunch, Kimberly and I went out to Midland City Forest, which has many hiking trails and several caches I haven't yet claimed. We put in about three miles of hiking, the lady seeking interesting fungi to photograph, the old dude seeking caches. As it turned out, it was Ms. B. who found two of the most difficult caches on our route. A couple of more disappointing DNFs, but I claimed my two to complete the challenge — plus one.

We decided to stay home with the folks this evening. Tomorrow, Ms. B.'s dad has an early-morning medical appointment in Ann Arbor, a couple of hours south of here, so she'll be heading out with Del & Fern before sunup.

Me, I'll be doing laundry tomorrow. One can go through some clothes on these hot summer days on the geocaching trail.
On the trail in Midland City Forest
Anyone lose a brain?

Thursday, July 25, 2024
The folks headed out for Ann Arbor at some ungodly hour this morning, so once I was up, about, and sufficiently caffeinated, I set out on foot after a Wherigo cache, which looked interesting because, to find the hidden container, you regularly query the program about its distance from your present position, essentially playing hot & cold. The icon on the map lay near downtown, a couple of miles away, so I figured I should start walking that direction. Off I went, and my queries gradually led me closer until I was less than half a mile away, at which time it became clear I needed to start moving westward.

Fortunately, I've become quite familiar with Midland's roads over the years, so I hardly spent any time moving back and forth to reduce the distance to my target; only when I was within a hundred yards did I need to go in several directions to determine the proper course. But soon I saw what appeared to be the perfect host for a geocache hide, and — yep! — there it was. What a fun journey and a cool cache.

Once back at Casa di Brugger, my health app showed I'd walked almost exactly six miles — hardly more than I put in on my regular daily walks back home. The walking has definitely been good for me, as I've lost fifteen pounds in the past year, and at my most recent physical checkup, back in May, my blood work results were the best I've had in decades. Also, I'm getting into a ton of audiobooks to keep me company while I'm out and about. I've been binging on F. Paul Wilson's Adversary Cycle and Repairman Jack novels, which I've found more engrossing than any series I've gotten into since Roger Zelazny's Amber novels. I'm almost finished with them, but I've got a virtual stack of various audiobooks loaded on my phone to keep me going.

We spent the afternoon taking care of assorted tasks around the house and hanging with the folks. An online friend had recommended an amateur production of H.P. Lovecraft's The Whisperer in Darkness, so I watched it on YouTube. It proved a mixed bag; very faithful to the source material, with effective atmosphere, excellent cinematography, and remarkably cool imagery. It also drew out way too many scenes to ridiculous lengths, to generate suspense, I suppose, but all it did was increase the running time to the point of tedium. Some of the film's shortcomings were so severe I found myself hard-pressed to finish it. But finish it I did, and in the end, I'll admit that I'm glad. The climax was excellent. Where the movie worked, I give it an A+++. Where it didn't, I give it a D–. The good outweighed the bad, but only just.

For dinner, Ms. B. and I went to Fuji Sushi, which is a regular Midland dining destination. A delicious sushi/sashimi combo for me, vegetable yakisoba for Ms. B. Afterward, I set my sights on another nearby Wherigo cache that required navigating by way of hot & cold clues. Since we completed the macro distances in the car, we managed to home in on the cache à pied in relatively short order. Once again, a super fun Wherigo.

For the rest of the evening, it was the usual gathering with folks in the TV lounge. As days go, this one proved far, far better than being slapped in the belly with a wet trout.
A couple of youngsters en route to "Midland Is Wherigo"
Friday, July 26, 2024
A beautiful morning at Hiwassee Lake
Today, I am slow-cooking a big ol' pork roast to make BBQ for Del & Fern, so as soon as I poured my first cup of coffee, I set about prepping the pig. It'll be cooking in the crock pot for most of the day, and there should be plenty of it left for them to freeze for later.

Over many trips here, I've claimed almost all the geocaches within walking or biking distance of Casa di Brugger, but I did see a puzzle cache on the map not too far away with a high difficulty rating. Once I gave it a good look, I realized I could almost certainly solve it, so I gave it a shot. The puzzle involves a geocode system called What3words, which identifies any location on the surface of the earth using three unique words. Then the puzzle requires projecting a set of coordinates based on those words. The projection I came up with looked promising, so I set out on Del's bike and rode the couple of miles down to Stratford Woods, where the cache is located. Much to my satisfaction, the coordinates turned out to be perfect, and I found the cache immediately. Woohoo!

But blimey, so few left to go after anywhere nearby. I has a sad.

During the afternoon, I drove down to nearby Freeland to grab a handful of caches for my last full day on this Midland trip. Once back, I put the finishing touches on Del & Fern's pork BBQ, which I hope they'll enjoy. Then Ms. B. and I got together with her friend Kim — yes, another one! — and hied ourselves down to Whichcraft for a couple of drinks (for me, dirty martinis made with local gin that I give very high marks). Then... at last!... to Molasses, where I ate what has got to be the best BBQ sandwich I've ever tasted: the Three Amigos sandwich, with chopped brisket, chopped pork, and crispy bacon, accompanied by a variety of sauces. Aggh! Incredible! Who'da thunk that as a BBQ aficionado I'd find such superlative dead critter in Midland, MI?! But truly. Yes. This. Is. It.

From there, we moseyed across the road to Grape Beginnings, where we met Ms. B.'s long-time friend, Darren, and closed the place down. And that was pretty much our finale for this trip. Tomorrow, it's back home — and, fortunately, we don't have to leave at the ass-crack of dawn.

Assuming nothing dire happens to any of us during the next few months, we'll plan to return at some point near year's end. Until then, Midland!
The Three Amigos BBQ sandwich at Molasses, with cole slaw and potato salad with fresh dill. Superb!

Sunday, July 21, 2024

Books, Brews, and Bashes


I'd like to express my thanks to Traci Morton, owner of Magnolia & Main Books, for hosting what turned out to be an excellent book signing event yesterday. We had a good crowd, and I sold a slew of books — which I gleefully devalued with my signature. Magnolia & Main is a charming little store with lots of books, both new and used, plus other assorted goodies. Local folks — please stop in and check it out! And thanks to all who came out for the event, particularly those who braved a torrential downpour early in the day. I really do appreciate it. Several old friends that I haven't seen in ages popped in, which meant a lot to me.

Magnolia & Main is located at 810 Main Street, Ridgeway, VA 24148.

After the event, friends Terry, Beth, Bob, and Yvonne all headed with Brugger and me over to Renewal Brewing in Uptown Martinsville for a variety of refreshing beverages. We had earlier determined we should all have dinner together, and as we were debating a suitable destination, Bob & Yvonne up and invited us to their place. So, we paraded over to their house and enjoyed an incredible dinner, plus good drinks, and lots of good music and other entertainment. It would have difficult to ask for a better day. Well, that big old rainstorm during the morning damn near drowned us, but at least we all survived.

Except maybe Ms. B. there. She's looking a little rough after diving into The Monarchs. I worry for her soul.

Upcoming events where you may find me raising hell and wreaking havoc include NecronomiCon, Providence, RI (August 15–18, 2024); MHC Is for Book Lovers, Spencer, VA (September 20, 2024); and Martinsville Oktoberfest, Martinsville, VA (October 5, 2024).

Tuesday, July 16, 2024

Mis-Inflammation

Long post warning. I will preface it by stating that, in the wake of the assassination attempt on Donald Trump, in no way am I condoning or excusing violence. This was a heinous act that can't possibly bear good fruit; quite the opposite, in fact. This is evident in subsequent — and understandable — anger about the act. However, the resultant vitriolic blame for the mounting circumstances, both before and after the shooting, strikes me as, in many cases misdirected. I am not talking about conspiracy theories. I will elaborate. No, I'm not out to lose friends or insult people who don't necessarily think as I do; quite the opposite. But I calls 'em as I sees 'em, and if you're inclined to write me off, then that is entirely your prerogative

Here, I am not focusing on anything other than language and its ramifications in this emotionally charged climate and very little else. Not the fitness, or lack thereof, of either candidate; not the merits, or lack thereof, of their respective platforms; specifically, the power of language and general expression. While no single side is entirely blameless for fiery rhetoric, the vehement, exclusive blaming of the left for its "hateful speech" and "inflammatory name-calling" by such a vast segment of the right shows an amazing lack of critical thinking and self-awareness. It's selective memory to the point of willful blindness.

I invite you to think back to the pre-Trump days, when pejorative epithets like "libtard" and "snowflake" became standard speech for conservatives, and one didn't have to occupy an extreme left position to find oneself painted with this brush. Then "Socialist!" became the all-encompassing catch word that applied to anyone with views a half-inch left of Ronald Reagan. Then "Communists" and "Marxists" who "HATE AMERICA!" slid into widespread usage, goaded by Fox News and its ilk, never mind that the vast majority of those using those terms clearly have no earthly idea of their actual meaning — and that little could be farther from the truth. Stoking fear increases ratings, and no one does that better than the right-wing media. (Yeah, I've watched more than plenty of it, thank you.)

No, I am not an extreme leftist; the only "extreme" thing I qualify to be is a horror writer. Still, as a proponent of women's rights and absolutely of the conviction that a woman (and her physician) should have more say over what happens to her own body than the government, particularly in cases where her life or health might be in jeopardy, in some circles I've been painted as a radical leftist, never mind that a healthy majority of Americans share this belief. Really? I consider this view simple common sense, as I believe most reasonably intelligent members of the species do. Or should, if they have the temerity to call themselves "pro-life."

So, enter Trump, who immediately set about raising the bar to unprecedented levels for fiery, vitriolic, even hateful rhetoric. Trump has used — and continues to use — derogatory, accusatory language to demonize and dehumanize those who oppose his views. None of this can by any stretch of the imagination be attributed to incomplete or erroneous context or, in the right's favorite terms, "liberal media brainwashing." The man's words and actions are easily verifiable and have been right out there for the world to see and hear unfiltered.

A few from rallies, where protestors were present: "Maybe he should have been roughed up."—November 2015. "I'd like to punch him in the face."—February 2016. "Knock the crap out of him, would you? I promise you, I will pay your legal fees."—February 2016. "You know, part of the problem is nobody wants to hurt each other anymore, right? They're being politically correct the way they take them out, so it takes a little bit longer."—March 2016. "If you do hurt him, I'll defend you in court, don't worry about it."—March 2016.

I was flabbergasted when Trump attacked Senator John McCain, whose politics I vehemently disagreed with but whom I respected as a person, particularly for his endurance as a PoW in service to the United States. “He’s not a war hero,” Trump said. “He was a war hero because he was captured. I like people who weren’t captured."

Whatever one might think of Hillary Clinton, was it appropriate for Trump to suggest, jokingly or otherwise, that the "Second Amendment people might take care of her court appointments" should she have won? If that was okay, then surely, so was Biden saying Trump needed to be in the crosshairs (which he actually apologized for in the wake of the shooting). Speaking of Clinton, I recall the debate with her in 2016 when Trump crept and paced around the stage behind Clinton like some kind of unhinged stalker. I think it was then and there that I knew that in no sane world could this man be a realistic candidate for the highest office in the land.

Yet, here we are in 2024.

Who can forget the lovely sentiment of all too many of Trump's followers, in reference to folks decrying the sheer, unbridled venom of Trump's tweets over the term of his presidency and beyond: "Fuck your feelings!"

Lately, all I have to is do go out and about town to see "Let's go, Brandon!" and "Fuck Biden — and fuck you for voting for him!" in yards and on bumper stickers. Do you see this as enthusiastic support for Trump or the Republican party? Me, I see it as unbridled hate, facilitated by a figure whose contempt for civil conventions long ago went out the window.

It's all such sincere Christian stuff, I must say. I mean, much if not most of this vitriol shares its space with signs reading "God Bless America!" and "Christian Patriots Live Here!" and "God, Guns, and Trump!" Let me tell you, I grew up in the church, remained active in one congregation or another well into adulthood, and studied the Bible both in church and on my own. I can safely that I have forgotten more of the tenets of Christianity than many of these folks have ever known in their lives.

Now we have the words of the Heritage Foundation's Kevin Roberts, in reference to Project 2025, the guidebook for a conservative government if/when Trump is elected: “The Second American Revolution will remain bloodless if the Left allows it to be.” Wow. Do you see this as anything other than a less-than-cryptic threat that it's their way or the bloody way? Is this an okay thing in our America? America is supposed to be, after all, yours, mine, and ours — not just YOUR America.

Wisely, both Biden and Trump, since the shooting, have called for Americans of all persuasions to tone down the rhetoric. I have no doubt that Biden is sincere. I would love to think that Trump is every bit as sincere. Truly I do. It's not bemusing at all that the Republican convention's theme is now "National Unity" and the first speaker up and called the left a "clear and present danger" to the country. Not too hypocritical, eh? I will categorically state that he is wrong. One-hundred percent wrong.

I have not written all this without full realization that people have their reasons for being angry and for acting out against that which angers them. I certainly do. But if we dehumanize and demonize everyone whose views, whose lifestyles, feel diametrically opposed to our own, we cannot respect each other. And without respect, we are pretty well doomed. Because this country truly is that proverbial melting pot, and the diverse views and people are not going anywhere. Unless we succumb to the unthinkable and begin to shed the blood of our fellow Americans.

If you don't agree with a word I've said here, I'm sorry for that, but I have to live with my conscience and my convictions. It's the former that shapes the latter. I do my best to be fair to all, and it is with that in mind that I feel absolutely compelled to illustrate how so many of us, as Americans, have too readily succumbed to anger and hatred — God knows, my temper has been running high lately — and it's anything but confined to the left. So, if my tone seems snarky, it's born of frustration with such widespread willful blindness, disrespect, and outright lies.

There's a lot — a fucking lot — more I could carry on with above and beyond how we interact with each other. But that's for another day.

Sunday, July 14, 2024

A Helluva Weekend

Given the dearth of nearby geocaches I've yet to find, it's always a treat to see new ones published that aren't that far away. A trio of new caches popped up on my map Friday — out in Floyd County, about an hour northwest of here. Since I couldn't get out there at the time, I got up early on Saturday morning, grabbed coffee and a danish at the nearby Valero Fas-Mart (their coffee does rock), and sallied forth onto the shadowy backroads. Long ago (the 1970s) and far away (about 20 miles), I attended Ferrum College, and I frequented these backroads, usually seeking the influence of what some might consider illicit substances. There was a commune called Travianas in this area that I used to visit frequently, and I read not all that long ago was still in existence. I don't remember exactly how we used to get there, but I was pretty close to the location, though.

My destination was a place called Riverstone Farm, a gorgeous place in the middle of nowhere, more or less, with a little store where you can buy their fresh produce, and it's all on the honor system. You weigh your produce, fill out your own sales slip, and drop your money in a slot. I picked up a couple of fabulous fresh tomatoes, which weighed over a pound, for $5. And I got first-to-find honors on all three of the new caches, each of which was nicely done. I so appreciate geocaches that lead me to such splendid locations that I would surely never have discovered otherwise.

On my way home, I stopped for lunch at the Railway Café in Bassett. A delicious fried chicken sandwich and a much-needed cold iced tea. Damn, it was hot out there.
The Riverstone Farm produce store
Trail along the Little River
A purty trail view
Last night, we saw the news of Donald Trump getting winged by a shooter. I've seen all sorts of conspiracy theories, lots of anger, and all too much true hate, enough to be totally overwhelming. I have a lot of things I can say on this issue, but not here and now. A bit later, I will.

This morning, again I rose early, grabbed coffee and a danish at the nearby Valero Fas-Mart, and hauled myself down to Burlington, NC, where I met friend Scott (a.k.a. Diefenbaker) for a day of caching in Hillsborough. As it has been lately, it was hot out there. Fuckin' hot. We both added quite a few to our total number of finds, including a bunch along the Eno Riverwalk. Another gorgeous location I enjoy visiting, and — as we usually do when in the area — we grabbed lunch at Hillsborough BBQ Company. Smoked chicken wings for me today, and damned good.

My favorite find of the day was probably the very photogenic black rat snake we ran across at Blackwood Farm Park.

I've no idea what level of madness our country and the world will reach this week, but I've no doubt it'll set a new fucking record.
A nice black rat snake we happened upon
Train trestle over the Eno River, viewed from the Riverwalk
Another view of the Eno

Thursday, July 11, 2024

"And All My Days Are Trances..."


To quote Edgar Allan Poe: "And all my days are trances, and all my nightly dreams are where thy dark eye glances, and where thy footstep gleams..." No other quote could better apply to David Niall Wilson's collection, The Devil's in the Flaws (Macabre Ink, 2023).

I've read a lot of Wilson's work over the years, and I published several of his stories in Deathrealm magazine back in the day — not to mention one of his more recent tales in my anthology, Deathrealm: Spirits (Shortwave Publishing, 2023). From the first of his stories that I read, back in the 1980s, I credited him as an accomplished stylist.

The Devil's in the Flaws proves that his style has aged like a fine wine (although I know the author is partial to bourbon). His prose is elegant, lyrical, masterful. While he has penned stories and novels in various subcategories of speculative fiction — horror, fantasy (everything from urban to sword & sorcery), science fiction, and thriller — the twenty short tales and one novella in this collection are primarily of a quiet, contemplative, introverted sort, more akin to the work of Shirley Jackson, Henry James, and perhaps Caitlin Kiernan than Stephen King or Paul Tremblay or Bridgette Nelson or any number of contemporary "horrific" voices. There is a wee bit of Lovecraftian influence for good measure.

Author/editor Richard Chizmar, who provided the foreword, wrote that, having been captivated by the work, he devoured The Devil's in the Flaws in a single sitting. I read the first few tales from the hardback edition of this book, but I absorbed most of it by way of the audiobook, read by the incomparable Joshua Saxon, whose polished, expert delivery could hardly have been more perfect for this collection's overall tone.

Now, many, if not most, of these stories are contemplative, dreamlike, trance-like, eschewing kinetic character conflict and/or action in the customary sense. Many of the tales focus on a single character's point of view and brim with vivid descriptions of physical or emotional stimuli, particularly those triggered by music or intoxicating compounds — or both — perhaps most notably in the story "Milk of Paradise." Traumatic memories often play a driving role. Of the short tales, "Little Ghosts," "Interred," and "Fear of Flying" are the standouts for me, with truly haunting imagery and vivid, sensual prose. "Wayne's World," dedicated to our mutual friend and fellow author, Wayne Allen Sallee, offers a powerful perspective on serial killer John Wayne Gacy, with whom Sallee once shared some correspondence. I suspect Wilson's take on Gacy's horrific soul might bring a big smile to Mr. Sallee's face.

For me, the crowning work in this volume is the title novella. Here, Wilson's style shines. The well-drawn characters, snappy dialogue, sense of otherworldly mystery, and an almost Lovecraftian menace — combined with a smidgen of whimsy — make this one of my favorite works by David Niall Wilson. Not that I could have ever published a piece this long in Deathrealm, but the novella is, at its heart, the consummate Deathrealm story. It is, as they say, worth the full price of admission.

The Devil's in the Flaws as a collection strikes me, at times, as too internalized, surreal, and trance-like, and I wonder if re-ordering some of the tales might bring a more balanced ebb and flow to the pacing. Regardless, the title story as the collection's finale packs such a lovely wallop that, whatever the sequencing of the other tales, it will leave you staggered — in the best possible sense.

Four out of five Damned Rodan's Dirty Firetinis.

Wednesday, July 10, 2024

Of Men and Monsters

Camp Necon, which was my most-anticipated horror convention back in the 1980s and 90s, is still going strong these days. For many years, circumstances frowned on me returning, but a couple of years back, Brugger and I went forth to Lowell, MA, and — apart from some transportation woes — enjoyed ourselves a grand Necon experience. This year, it's July 19–22, in Manchester, New Hampshire, and we were hoping to go, but Ms. B.'s loss of her job put the kibosh on that plan.

A little while back, horror aficionado, publisher, bookstore owner, and longtime friend, Dave Hinchberger, gave me a shout and said he and his wife, LeeAnn, were going to Necon — driving from Atlanta, no less — and wondered whether we might like to get together since they'd be passing close by us on their trip. Well, hell, yeah! It's been ages since I've seen Dave. As proprietor of The Overlook Connection, he has always been an invaluable proponent of small press publishers, and back in the days of Deathrealm magazine, he went many extra miles to help me keep it a viable, high-profile publication.

Dave and LeeAnn left Atlanta yesterday, with several stops planned along their trip northward, including visits with mutual friends Elizabeth Massie & Cortney Skinner in Waynesboro, Virginia, and Chet & Laurie Williamson in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. They calculated their arrival in Martinsville would be around dinnertime, so we decided to meet at the Dutch Inn Restaurant in nearby Collinsville. Back in the days of yore, that restaurant one of the preeminent dining establishments in the area, but it closed down during the height of COVID-19, and it never reopened. However, the Inn is under new management, and the restaurant has finally opened its doors for business again. We enjoyed our dinners — I had a burger about the size of North America — and then we returned to Casa di Rodan for some drinks and the shooting of shit. And let me tell you, there was some shit to be shot. Stories about countless con experiences; fun gatherings with wacky mutual friends; favorite books, stories, and writers; Stephen King anecdotes; and lord knows what all.

The Hinchbergers had to get back to their lodgings in Greensboro before their bedtimes, but let me tell you, our evening ran pretty late. Absolutely a delightful time, but it only made me wish all the more that Ms. B. and I would be heading to Necon this year. Maybe... maybe if the stars align... next year.

Thanks, Dave and LeeAnn, for your thoughtfulness, and we look forward to getting together again, hopefully not such a long passage of time as the last!
That's some funny shit, lady!
Okay, yeah, so they look nice and all, but who knows what evil lurks...
Our Motley Crue

Monday, July 8, 2024

Ghost Ship

I had a hell of an adventure this morning at a new geocache called "Ghost Ship" at Smith Mountain Lake... though, sadly, I never found the cache. It's rated 4 out of 5 difficulty, so I knew it was gonna be a tough hunt.

The morning started out with a big ol' black bear running across the road in front of me. I guess I'm glad I didn't see it again after that, for it was not at all of meager girth.

Getting to where the cache is supposed to be hidden (the boat's ghostly interior) required some acrobatic feats, and I think it's safe to say I've rarely ever partied with so many — thankfully lethargic — wasps in such a confined space.

After over an hour of intense searching in there, the blazing sun began to turn the Ghost Ship into a Ghost Oven, and I finally vacated the premises before I became a Ghost Geocacher. I think I can count on one hand — maybe even one finger — the number of times have I emerged from a cache hunt so sweaty and filthy dirty.

Had I found this cache, I would have awarded it a favorite point for the exciting morning adventure, but since I didn't... I can't. Alas!

Next time...
 
I did find a couple of other caches up that way to make the trip worthwhile, and on the way home, I had lunch at The Checkered Pig, one of our local BBQ joints. It topped off what turned out to be a very fun outing, despite bombing out at my primary target.
A target-rich environment!
Glad I brought my flashlight.
Forward view

L: The reason it's called "Ghost Ship?" R: Hot, filthy-dirty, sweaty, half-dead old dude