Walpurgis-Cache!

In certain shadowy corners of the world, the night of April 30 is known as Walpurgisnacht—the Witches' Sabbath. Whoa, scary, right? Well, rather than spending a creepy May Eve all by our lonesomes—subject to the whims of all sorts of ghosties, ghoulies, long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night—a good fifty-some geocachers all chased away our mortal terror at Walpurgis-Cache, a horribly lively social event that Mrs Death and I hosted at Beef O'Brady's bar in Greensboro.

Geoturtle, Mrs Ego, Kuykenew

Mr & Mrs RobGSO

Night-Ranger

Mr. Spring1

Team Fuzzie

Cupdaisy & Geodogg

The Sneaky Bulldog family

It's Linda Freakin' Blair!

BogTurtle trying not to be seen

Mrs Death and Old Rodan announcing the winners of the door prizes

It's WHOSE birthday???

This was a grand evening, topped off by some excellent birthday cake that Mrs Death secretly devised for me (so come Saturday, I'm older than the hills, big deal). I don't think anyone went away dissatisfied, and I noticed that at least a couple of people looked to be having a good time. For the sake of their families, I won't reveal their identities.

Cleanup

For an old fart, I burned a lot of energy over the past couple of days. Yesterday, got off work early, came to Martinsville, and planted five new caches down along the Smith River, which involved a couple of miles of hiking. Hot day, hot hike. I found that one of those caches needed some "adjustment," so first thing this morning, I did the hike over again to make the adjustment. Again, hot day, hot hike. As I was exiting the woods, I encountered my good friends Norman and Lynn D., a.k.a. Spring1 (pictured above), who were coming out to find said caches. They'd gotten lost on the way over from Danville, due to the fact that—unknown to me—there are two roads in town with exactly the same name. Not all that far apart, either. Go figure.

Anyhoo, from there, it was over to the city park for the Earth Week Cache-In, Trash-Out event coordinated by my friend Lynn P., a.k.a. Guesthouses. Norman and Lynn D. were supposed to be coming, but they were obviously going to be late. Here, I met the charming Medicine Turtle couple and their passel of young'uns (also pictured above). We set about the big cleanup job, and it wasn't long before the Medicine Turtles unearthed...of all things...a skeet launcher. Old and rusted out, but still in one piece. No telling how long it's been half-buried back in a dark corner of the park, but since I personally don't see lots of skeet launchers lying around in the woods, I found it kind of cool.

From there, it was Chinese food with Mum and my friends, the Albaneses. Then back to the woods. Tiki torches, a little campfire, and a bunch of beer. Beautiful evening, good company.

Officially very tired and very satisfied. After the rest of this week, I can certainly live with that.

Family History

My mom and my wife both get excited about genealogy, but the bug has never bitten me. Not much, anyway. Still, now and again, it's interesting to pick up colorful tidbits about relatives from days gone by. My great-great uncle, Tom Bell, was a somewhat flamboyant congressman from Georgia back in the early-to-mid 20th century. There's a neat article about him in the Gainesville Times, much of it based on information provided by my great-uncle Herbert Bell.

Congressman Helped Find His Father's Killer

Road rage is nothing new. I'd not be surprised if my occasional urge to shoot out the tires of offensive drivers' cars hearkens back to Old Uncle Tom Bell...

I've Got Blisters on Me Fingers!

Long ago and far away, I used to play me git-fiddle religiously—much to the chagrin of anyone within earshot. The past few days, I've felt compelled to pull out the old guitar-box and bang noisily upon it. Spent just enough time playing to make my fingers very, very sore. In fact, at work, I suggested that the old digits hurt enough to prevent me from typing, and I should go home. Alas (no doubt because it was an utterly beautiful day and I appeared otherwise healthy) they didn't buy it. The nerve!

Anyway, I figured out a couple of songs by the Decemberists, as I've been digging 'em, a couple of old New Christy Minstrels standards that I had to relearn, and an original that I wrote sometime around 1984. Matter of fact, I wrote lots of songs back in the 80s—again, much to the neighbors' chagrin.

Really enjoyed doing this, but now my fingers are really sore. I just don't see how I'm going to be able to type tomorrow. And I think the weather's supposed to be nice again...

On a much sadder note, today marks the second anniversary of our cat Charcoal's crossing the Rainbow Bridge. She was sweetest of the sweet. I miss her.

04-11-01: My Dear Dad

Eight years ago tonight, my dad passed away. Over many years, complications from diabetes gradually debilitated him, until finally his body couldn't take any more. It was a terrible time, those last couple of years. But his spirit was strong from day one, and even during the period when he was a complete invalid, his patience and wisdom always showed through. He was the role model for my life, and these many years later, I still wish I could share things with him and seek his guidance when life is too much. If there was ever anyone who knew how to make it through when life did that, it was Dad.

A few pics from the good times:

The family, circa 1976
Mom and Dad's wedding day
Dad, Brother, and Young Old Fart at Callaway Gardens, GA
Cowboy Dad

New Interview at The Occult Detective

Author Bob Freeman was kind enough to interview me for his Occult Detective blog. Check it out here: Author Spotlight: Stephen Mark Rainey

Thanks for the opportunity, Mr. Bob.

It's Where?

Another fun trek into the bowels of the earth to hunt up a new geocache. Above, it was pouring rain, but down below, it was just kind of wet in general, as I was traipsing through an aquaduct and dodging torrents from the overhead drainage conduits.

I get a real charge out of hides like this one. Of course, after this little subterranean jaunt, I had to put myself through decontamination. I think I saw an alien egg depository down there.

The Spooky Trail!

Actually, it's not terribly spooky, at least in daylight, but it sure does have some atmosphere. The new Fieldale Smith River Trail, just northwest of Martinsville, VA, has just become one of my favorite places anywhere. The grand opening of the new mile-plus stretch was yesterday, and today, I walked out to its end and back—twice. Oh yeah, a little sore. (But it's a good kind of sore.) Hid three new geocaches out there—a couple with spooky themes, since the sites overlook the old Koehler warehouse on the Smith River, which used to double as the Jaycees' haunted castle at Halloween. I got to work it several times during my teens and early twenties, designing some of the chambers of horrors and playing the roving monsters that scared the poop outa the patrons. Good times, those.

Now I figure if cachers are out yonder hunting and hear a bunch of eerie howling commencing, it's probably because they've disturbed the evil, hungry living dead that frequent the area. (Or maybe it's just somebody's dog. But who'd want to take the chance of finding out?)

Some of the biggest, oldest trees I've ever seen are out on that trail. Several islands parallel the banks (I hid a cache on one of them). And near the trail's end (at least until it is extended farther), I found what appears to be the place where old gas grills go to die. Yeah, for real; it was a clearing filled with several old gas grills (one of which was apparently used to cook golf balls—see photo below), some camping chairs, a fire pit, and a mason jar of what appeared to be peach moonshine (possibly older than I am).

So it was a really neat afternoon. Got in four-plus miles of hiking, found some caches, and planted a few. Plus the writer's instincts got a good workout. I foresee a new tale in the works in the very near future...

A special shout-out to the Pritchetts and the Albaneses for their hospitality this weekend. Couldn't do without such excellent folks. Thank you.

R.I.P. Luther 1992–2009

My brother Phred's goodest ol' friend, Luther, passed on today. He was a sweet, sweet dog—pretty much a real nephew to me. Luther had a good life with my brother, who loved him mighty dearly. Please raise up some good wishes for Phred. Bye bye, Looth. We'll miss you much.

Randleman Outing

Mrs Death accompanied me on a nice evening trip to Randleman, a little town just down the road a piece, to hunt for a passel of caches. We found 15 out of 16; I brought home a travel bug, the remainder of an excellent dinner, and a crapload of briers embedded in my flesh. Yeah, there was a terrain challenge or two, so the souvenirs were kind of inevitable. Worth every little drop of blood, too.

We found one of those wonderful, quaint local joints for dinner, called The Wild Onion. Southern home cooking and all, and just damned good. I had me some killer pig ribs. I mean the ribs were killer, not the pigs. Well, probably.

Once again, caching has taken us to some really neat places we'd just never otherwise get to. Love it. And I made it another day without falling into a river, lake, creek, or other body of water. Yay!

The Wild Onion, a quaint little restaurant down in Randleman

I Didn't Fall in Today

I really like the Greensboro watershed trails; there's many miles of them around the various lakes to the north of town. They make for fine hiking and are abundant with wildlife and unspoiled woodland. Not to mention they're full of geocaches. It was such a beautiful afternoon that I expected the woods to be full of muggles. Nope. For all practical purposes, I was the only soul out and about on the Piedmont Trail today. I put in an easy three-mile hike and found a number of the remaining few trail caches I haven't yet claimed. Not much wildlife out today, I found. Several times, I stopped to take some pictures, and the air was as still and silent as I've ever experienced. Not a breath of breeze or chirping of birds. Absolute, natural silence.



Of course, it's a great place for the horror writer's instincts to kick in big time. There's one spot where you come out of the woods and you can view an isolated house in the distance. While it's a nice place, I get the feeling if I were to venture much closer, I might be treated to the sound of chainsaws and screaming.



The Boggy Creek monster is probably very happy here as well.

Three caches and one stage of a multi claimed today. It was a good, long hike. I be bushed.

That Water Sure Is Wet

Went out to Northeast Park for a few caches after work, only to find that, for a couple of them, you had to go across the river. After all the rains, the river was right swollen. And the very steep bank was very muddy. And slick.

Emphasis on slick.

It was a weighty splash—the distinctive sound of 185 pounds dropping solidly into two and a half feet of water.

By the time I got to the nearby graveyard to find the cache hidden there, I was pretty well dried out. It's a neat little place, with graves dating back to the very early 1800s. A fine place to hang oneself out for a while.

The Horror at Midnight

When I was a kid in Martinsville, VA, the Rives Theater was my home away from home. It's where I first saw a huge number of the horror and science fiction movies that I've loved ever since. To my dismay, the theater closed a few years back, and given the state of the local economy (currently, the unemployment rate is 18%, and it was bad here even when the rest of the country wasn't in recession), I figured it was probably for good. The other theater in town, the Martin, vanished many years ago, and it just seemed the Rives was destined to go the same way. Happily, though, the Rives has reopened—both for movies and live music shows—and they're even showing midnight movies on the weekend. Last night, they ran Night of the Living Dead, so Mrs Death and I rode up from Greensboro, got with our friends, the Albaneses, and made a night of it, with dinner and a great late-night horror movie (not to mention a number of caches).

Back when I was about ten, Night of the Living Dead came to the local drive-in theater on a double-bill with Ghidrah, the Three-Headed Monster. I desperately wanted to see Ghidrah, but my mom and dad were leery of taking me because they'd heard Night of the Living Dead was mighty intense. So, one night in advance, they went to check it out. Well, sure enough, it freaked them out pretty good, and they told me I couldn't go. "I don't want to see Night of the Living Dead," I said (even though I kind of did). "I just want to see Ghidrah."

"You're not going anywhere near that drive-in theater!" was the response.

Evidently the proximity of flesh-eating zombies to Godzilla and friends was enough to make my folks fear for my sanity. I don't recall exactly when I got to see Night of the Living Dead for the first time, but I do remember that the TV spots for it were enough to give me nightmares. I probably should never have mentioned that way back when....

Anyhoo, a night at the old theater with a classic horror movie in the company of good friends was exactly what the doctor ordered. Coming soon, the Rives is showing A Clockwork Orange for one of the midnight features. Gonna have to go because I haven't seen it in years—even though at home it's very aptly the second feature on the videotape of our wedding.

NORTHERN HAUNTS and StellarCon

Recieved my contributor copy of Shroud Publications' Northern Haunts antho today; it features my tale "Black Tom," which is a horror story about—I'm sure this will shock you—geocaching. All the stories (exactly 100 of them) are very short and told in the first person, to affect the mood of a scary campfire tale (my favorite kind). A very nice-looking volume, also featuring stories by James S. Dorr, Blu Gilliand, Nate Kenyon, Gina Ranalli, Steve Vernon, and...let's see...94 other authors.

This weekend, or at least a portion of it, I will be at StellarCon, in High Point. I've got a panel at 9:00 PM tomorrow night, but I'm not certain at this point what the rest of my schedule will be. Reckon I'll find out when I get there. I will probably be doing a reading and booksigning sometime on Saturday. If you can get my coordinates, perhaps you can track me down.

First Big Trail Hike of the Season

And lordy, I'm a little sore. Gorgeous, gorgeous day for hiking. Almost 80 degrees, but a constant cool, comfortable breeze. Undertook a most interesting terrain challenge to snag a cache—had to walk out about 50 ft. on a fallen tree over Lake Brandt. Well, actually, I walked about halfway, then dropped and scooted the rest of the way. The cache site is within view of the nearby highway, and I nearly fell of laughing when some fellow in a truck drove by and yelled, "Hey, you, get the hell off that tree!" I didna really want to fall off, though, as I had electronic gadgets in my pockets that really oughta not get wet. Had the cache in short order and then set off on a nice long trail hike. Picked up another tough hide, too, so it was a most gratifying early afternoon.

Now it's time to have a martini and write the last 500 words of me current project.

Hmm. I'm really dying for some sushi about now.

Planet Earth

Finally had a chance to get out and find a cache. Snagged #1,100 tonight—a neat one called "Planet Earth" in downtown Greensboro. One of the logging requirements is to post a photo of yourself with your GPS at the cache site. Done and done.

I'd move heaven and earth to eat a Garmin.

Whirlwind

Consistent with the ongoing spirit of busybodyness, this week has been a whirlwind of activity, some fun, mostly not, precluding much blogging, tweeting, facebooking, Aces High, or any of that entertaining nonsense. Let's see...during the "big" winter storm we had the other night, our power flashed on and off a few times, blowing up my computer quite nicely, thank you very much. I thought that's why we had surge protectors, but it laughed mine off quite happily. F'ing bitch. My car needs brake work. Haven't even had a chance to hunt caches for several days. The old body is starting to feel this one. Weekend, please hurry.

Busybody

That would be me. It's been a long week, considering it's only Tuesday. Last night, I finished up an essay for an antho called Do Not Read! and began work on a new "big" project with a tight deadline. Worked very full days at the office, and then even snagged a couple of caches yesterday and today.

And a big sigh. I just got a notice from my Web domain host that I need to renew the domain name (www.stephenmarkrainey.com) or it will expire in five days. I renewed it for three years last month. I'd be so thrilled if I didn't have to go through this with them every year...

I sleep now.

Bloodbath

By day, I work for an educational publisher, and in past years, it has been less subject to extremes in the economy than many others, since the education field is such a crucial one — indeed, one of the few that is supposedly relatively stable, if not growing. However, the publishing business overall has tanked badly, and we are still exposed to much of that instability. Yesterday, almost a fifth of the staff at my workplace was cut loose, including my partner in the typesetting department, with whom I have worked for going on ten years now. She’s got lots of health problems, and for those who were let go yesterday, their insurance coverage terminated at midnight last night

The only option for most of them is COBRA, which is horrendously expensive. However, in this case, the timing of Obama’s stimulus package being passed may have been propitious, since now the government will pick up about 60% of the COBRA premium

Even then, for most of them, it will be a monumental struggle to stay afloat. And the company cutting staff just means that much more money coming out of the economy than going into it, thus perpetuating this evil cycle. I absolutely understand the personnel cuts; if the business fails completely and puts the lot of us out of work, it’s all that much worse. Still, this is a bitter pill to swallow. In some respects, I am grateful to still have a decent job. But overall, my mood is this:

I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore.

How wonderful it would be to have the answers and the means to implement them. But our problems are so widespread and so complex — thanks so much to corporate greed — that it’s going to take more a change in mindset than infusion of money for the real recovery to happen. As we’ve dug ourselves in deeper and deeper, the glowing horizon keeps getting farther and farther away.

Our company move was necessary, I’ve no doubt of this. But I hope that, at the end of it all — not just for our business but across the board — no one is going to end up rewarded for making “tough decisions,” when the consequence of this “tough” decision-making is financial devastation for so many talented and undeserving individuals. If they are, then the negative cycle will not have been broken but perpetuated. And that’s the last thing any of us need.

The Unthinkable...

...is exactly what I'm thinking. It's still a ways off yet, but eventually it's going to have to happen.

My next computer might be a Mac.

There, I've thought it, I've said it, and I meant it. There was a time that there wasn't a chance in hell of this ever happening, but apparently that time is past. Newer Macs appear to be what the machines should be, instead of machines full of wasted potential. The notion bears further investigating, but the very fact it's in my head is quite the novelty.

Specifics of Mac and PC issues aside (I use a Mac at the office and a Windows PC at home), I have to say, it's the Mac's advertising campaign that first got me thinking about it. Mac ads are clever and feature readily identifiable characters. They give you a tantalizing little peek at what the Mac can do.

Then there are the Windows Vista ads. What the fuck are those? To whom are they trying to appeal? Beyond that, what the fuck are they saying—and what are they trying to sell? Gracious me, those Vista ads couldn't sell a calculator to a technology geek who'd been abducted by fundamentalist Luddites and thrown into a computerless cave in the Mojave desert for a couple of years. No, I'm not kidding.

I mean, what the hell is this?

To top it all off, I might even get my Mom a Mac. I'm not kidding about that, either.

So, anyway, that's what I'm thinking about.

Happy freakin' Valentine's Day, by the way. (No, I'm not a fan.)

A Weekend at Stately Wilson Manor

Spent a very pleasant long weekend in Hertford, NC, visiting writing- and now geocaching-cohorts, David Niall Wilson and Trish Macomber, as well as their family of critters and young 'uns. Headed out on Friday morning with Mrs Death, snagging lots of geocaches along the way; ate and drank very well, as we usually do at Stately Wilson Manor; hunted more caches; and watched Deathrace, the recent remake of the cult classic Deathrace 2000. I'm not really a fan of the original, but the new one is okay. It stars Transporter guy Jason Statham, who proves that you can get by just fine without a lot of hair. Most notably, I rediscovered the fact that it's crucial to keep a lot of energy in reserve at Stately Wilson Manor, for their youngest, Katie, will run rings around you, the dogs (Gizmo and Ginger) will outtalk you, and Mr. Wilson will out-zing you. Oh yeah, there's lots of wit zinging around Wilson Manor, which is always my favorite part.

Coming home, Mrs Death and I found another 28 caches, making a trip total of 55. My favorite was one we didn't actually find. We were hunting near a cow pasture, and the whole herd came plodding down the hill to see what we were up to. I said, "Look, dear, honey bunches of steaks," which they didn't seem to like very much. I mean, they just kept looking at me with their big brown cow eyes. I almost hate to eat them now. Actually, I hope this bunch were milk cows, so that they may live long and prosperous lives, but if not, I bet they'll be delicious.

Pictures follow. Click on 'em to enlarge.

"Look, dear, honey bunches of steaks!"

Golden Corral

Near the "Battle of Windsor" cache, Windsor, NC

Fluffy, the Destroyer of Worlds' twin

Shadow Slayer and Damned Rodan at "A Cache With a View"

Clan Wilson

Who Could Resist...

...picking up a copy of a magazine of literary criticism whose cover lists "Torture, Cannibalism, and Necrophilia" as one of its features?

That would be the latest issue of Dead Reckonings (#4), edited by S. T. Joshi and the very late Jack Haringa (who was murdered so ignominiously on a great many blogs last year—many of which were collected in the volume, Jack Haringa Must Die, released last May by Merricat Publications).

It's probably my all-time favorite review zine, despite its thoroughly dead co-editor. With issue #4, I have special reason to be fond of it, since reviewer Matt Cardin tackled Other Gods, in an article called "Sometimes You Just Have to Gush" (which also covers Michael Shea's The Autopsy and Other Tales), and the title says it all. Mr. Cardin does indeed gush a little, but his review is thoughtful and balanced. He does call a spade a spade; when something falls flat for him, he up and says so, just as he absolutely ought. But with Other Gods also receiving other good reviews and having made the preliminary Stoker ballot, I feel like it is getting some positive recognition. That's particularly gratifying to me because the book is, after all, a fair sampler of the written work I've labored so hard over for the past twenty years.

Mercy, how life does go by.

My favorite Cardin quote of the review: "I finished the book feeling as if I had been processed through the kaleidoscopic imagination of a born storyteller. Other Gods is a superb example of what this sort of long-term collection is good for: It plainly highlights the author's long-running thematic obsessions and shows him circling back to revisit and reshape the concepts, tropes, and emotions that inspire him."

Note: Cardin's gushing article is the not the one about cannibalism, torture, necrophilia, etc. etc. For that, one must read on...

On the Trail...

...wooded, urban, and everything in between. It's been a great weekend for geocaching. Yesterday, Mrs Death and I spent the afternoon in Winston-Salem hunting mostly urban micros, but we discovered a few nice, wooded parks, with full-sized hides as well. We then headed over to the "Adult Swim," a fun social event at the Mellow Mushroom restaurant in downtown Winston, with about 40 cachers in attendance. Afterward, we moved to the Foothills tavern a short distance down the road and mingled a while.

Today, I headed out to conquer a fairly terrain-intensive cache called Terrainasaur, which was very aptly named. I took a few shortcuts that turned a plain old Terrainasaur into a Terrainasaurus Rex, but...as Bobby Goldsboro said...what the heck. It was a damn fine day out there.

Today's find was #982.

The Mellow Mushroom: Mrs Death, Tokyo Tako, Mr and Mrs Spring1, and some dude Mrs Death is but a Shell of her former self. A beautiful, obviously haunted house we passed in Winston Terrainasaur: One of the creeks I ended up plowing through this afternoon Terrainasaur: An odd little wigwam near the second stage

Remembering DARK SHADOWS at Fearzone.com

The past couple of weeks, Greg Lamberson of Fearzone.com has been interviewing me about Dark Shadows: Path of Fate. It's interactive and in-depth, and I really enjoyed doing it. I hope the positive energy shows through.

Check it out here: www.fearzone.com

Picked up four new caches after work this afternoon, which leaves me 41 before hitting the big 1K. Now it's back into the dark world of the short story I'm working on....

There and Back Again

Last night was such a beautiful evening, I couldn't not go out into the woods geocaching. About 10:30 PM, I took off with my caching pal, Ethan (Sneaky Bulldog), and we ventured out into the great beyond to claim a few finds. Yep, we snagged the ones we were looking for, but in the process had to pass through a dense pine forest full of spiders, which gave even the one of us who doesn't ordinarily mind spiders (which is not me) a touch of the shudders. Thousands of little glowing eyes in the beam of my headlight, and there we were traipsing amongst them. (Silly humans.) Took a close look at a few of them, and they were not necessarily small and innocuous. Think Shelob.

Then it was up fairly early this morning for a day-long trek over to Archdale with Mrs Death and our friend Beth (UNCGBogTurtle). We were mostly after quick park-n-grabs, but at Creekside Park, we got out and hiked a good ways in very picturesque surroundings. We ended the evening with dinner at Rearn Thai, which really hit the fiery spot after long day on the go.

I'm up to 952. 1K, here I come.

Now I'm tired as fire and contemplating sleep. Not sure I have the energy left to get to the bedroom, so if you hear a thunk and the text goes wonky...that was just my head hitting the keyboard.

I sleep now.

Success! UNCGBogTurtle and Mrs Death signing the log

OTHER GODS on 2008 Stoker Award Prelim Ballot

If you're an active member of HWA and would like a comp copy of my short fiction collection, Other Gods, drop me a note, as Dark Regions still has a few copies available (mark-at-stephenmarkrainey-dot-com).

Here's the preliminary ballot. Note: Only active members of HWA are eligible to vote on the Stoker Awards.

Superior Achievement in a Novel
Coffin County by Gary Braunbeck (Leisure)
The Shadow Year by Jeffrey Ford (William Morrow)
Ghost Walk by Brian Keene (Leisure)
The Reach by Nate Kenyon (Leisure)
Duma Key by Stephen King (Scribner)
Johnny Gruesome by Gregory Lamberson (Bad Moon/Medallion)
Water Witch by Deborah Leblanc (Dorchester/Leisure)
Bad Moon Rising by Jonathan Maberry (Pinnacle)
Dead and Gone by Harry Shannon (Delirium Books)
The Price by Alexandra Sokoloff (St. Martins)
The Man on the Ceiling by Steve Rasnic Tem and Melanie Tem (Wizards of the Coast)

Superior Achievement in a First Novel
Bestial: Werewolf Apocalypse by William D. Carl (Permuted Press)
Apricot Brandy by Lynn César (Juno Books)
Midnight On Mourn Street by Christopher Conlon (Earthling Publications)
Veins by Lawrence C. Connolly (Fantasist Enterprises)
Eternal Vigilance by Gabrielle S. Faust (Immanion Press)
The Gentling Box by Lisa Mannetti (Dark Hart Press)
Monster Behind the Wheel by Michael McCarty and Mark McLaughlin (Delirium Books)
Frozen Blood by Joel A. Sutherland (Lachesis Publishing)
Crimson Orgy by Austin Williams (Borderlands Press)

Superior Achievement in Long Fiction
"The Lagerstatte" by Laird Barron (The Del Rey Book of Science Fiction and Fantasy)
"The Shallow End of the Pool" by Adam-Troy Castro (Creeping Hemlock)
"Miranda" by John R. Little (Bad Moon Books)
"Redemption Roadshow" by Weston Ochse (Burning Effigy)
"The Confessions of St. Zach" by Gene O'Neill (Bad Moon Books)
"Orpheus and the Pearl" by Kim Paffenroth (Magus Press)
"Behold the Child" by Harry Shannon (Brimstone Turnpike)
"Just Like Hell" by Nate Southard (Thunderstorm Books)
"Population Zero" by Wrath James White (Cargo Cult Press)
"Orgy of Souls" by Wrath James White, and Maurice Broaddus (Apex Book Company)

Superior Achievement in Short Fiction
"The Last Word" by Maria Alexander (Sins of the Sirens)
"Mama Strangelove's Remedies for Afterlife Disorders, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Mother Death" by C. Dean Andersson (Brutarian)
"Consumed" by Michael Louis Calvillo (Horror Library Volume 3)
"Petrified" by Scott Edelman (Desolate Souls)
"Mechanix" by Christopher Fulbright (Bound for Evil)
"The Lost" by Sarah Langan (Cemetery Dance Publications)
"The Dude Who Collected Lovecraft" by Nick Mamatas, and Tim Pratt (Chizine)
"The Haven" by John Palisano (Horror Library Vol. 3)
"Turtle" by Lee Thomas (Doorways)
"The Blog at the End of the World" by Paul Tremblay (Chizine)
"Those Eyes" by Mark W. Worthen (Thinner Than Mist)

Superior Achievement in an Anthology
The Undead: Headshot Quartet edited by Christina Bivins and Lane Adamson (Permuted Press)
Like a Chinese Tattoo edited by Bill Breedlove (Dark Arts Books)
Horror Library, Vol. 3 edited by R. J. Cavender (Cutting Block Press)
Abominations edited by Tim Deal (Shroud Publishing)
Beneath the Surface edited by Tim Deal (Shroud Publishing) Unspeakable Horrors edited by Vince A. Liaguno and Chad Helder (Dark Scribe Press)

Superior Achievement in a Collection
The Number 121 to Pennsylvania by Kealan Patrick Burke (Cemetery Dance Publications)
Mama's Boy and Other Dark Tales by Fran Friel (Apex Publications)
Just After Sunset by Stephen King (Scribner)
Little Creatures by Michael McCarty (Sam's Dot Publishing)
Other Gods by Stephen Mark Rainey (Dark Regions Press)
The Autopsy and Other Tales by Michael Shea (Centipede)
Sheep and Wolves by Jeremy C. Shipp (Raw Dog Screaming Press) Fourtold by Michael Stone (Baysgarth Publications)
Gleefully Macabre Tales by Jeff Strand (Delirium)
Ennui and Other States of Madness by David Niall Wilson (Dark Regions Press)

Superior Achievement in Nonfiction
Shadows Over New England by David Goudsward, and Scott T. Goudsward (BearManor Media)
Bram Stoker's Notes for Dracula by Robert Eighteen-Bisang and Elizabeth Miller (McFarland)
Spirits and Death in Niagara by Marcy Italiano (Schiffer Publishing)
The New Annotated Dracula by Leslie S. Klinger (W. W. Norton)
Beauty and Dynamite by Alethea Kontis (Apex Publications)
Cheap Scares by Gregory Lamberson (McFarland)
Zombie CSU by Jonathan Maberry (Citadel)
Modern Mythmakers by Michael McCarty (McFarland)
A Hallowe'en Anthology by Lisa Morton (McFarland)
The Book of Lists: Horror by Amy Wallace, Del Howison, and Scott Bradley (Harper)

Superior Achievement in a Poetry Collection
The Nightmare Collection by Bruce Boston (Dark Regions Press)
The Phantom World by Gary William Crawford (Sam's Dot)
Virgin of the Apocalypse by Corrine De Winter (Sam's Dot Publishing)
The Flayed Man and Other Poems by Phillip A. Ellis (Gothic Press)
Attack of the Two-Headed Poetry Monster by Mark McLaughlin and Michael McCarty (Skullvines Press)
Ghosts of Past and Future by Darrell Schweitzer (Borgo)

Congrats and best wishes to everyone on the prelim ballot.

Dare to Hope

I expect just about every blogger on the InterWebz is having his say about today's inauguration, so here's my little contribution to stew.

(I'm backtracking here; I wrote much of the following using a lot of collective "we's". That's a mistake. I have substituted a few "I's" for a number of them. Otherwise, I would have reason to doubt my own honesty.)

This is a cynical nation, and it's no wonder. Near as I can tell, irresponsibility, divisiveness, and caustic rhetoric have all but replaced thoughtful, rational discourse across the entire socio-political spectrum—to the point that it seems everything, from the most urgent national/international summit to the weekly Boy Scout meeting down the street, is stalled in a gridlock of negativity. Wherever I am, in virtual space or real space, it's absolutely pervasive. People thrive on conflict, no matter how counterproductive. And since we are wired into the world's conflicts via every conceivable form of communication from the time we get up in the morning till we hit the sack, our senses are overwhelmed. It doesn't take much to short-circuit us because our circuits are overloaded.

In some respects, we are experiencing trauma. Certainly not like in so many other places. Here, we're not being shelled daily. Most of us are not facing a murderous famine that's the result of both nature and human depravity. We don't suffer under a theocracy that oppresses women and ferociously punishes dissent with corporal and capital punishment. Still, there is trauma. It's insidious. It's the cancer of chronic frustration.

Much of my personal frustration comes from the fact that the world is too small to process comfortably anymore. There's no over there left; the land across the water is my own backyard. And so many of the dire things I witness daily have nothing to with my choices. Constantly, I witness the consequences of greed, irresponsibility, and arrogance of a relative few, about whom I can do little or nothing—other than accede to so many demands to clean up their mess—to the point that that, instead of pulling myself up and out of it, I adopt a victim mentality.

A grave mistake.

(I think I can comfortably add a few "we's" here. Because I know there are an awful lot of others like me.) We are a people desperate for a breath of hope. We are mad as hell and don't want to take this anymore. We're dying for the medication that will bring down our collective blood pressure.

Whether real or illusory, Obama represents something different to a nation burned out with the garbage we've immersed ourselves in—unwillingly and all too willingly—for decades, and particularly for the past eight years. His words ring with common-sense truth. He gives the impression of integrity. His dynamic delivery lends credence to the idea that we can overcome the cancers of chronic frustration and cynicism.

The question that now stands is this: will he, can he, deliver? The problems he faces are BIG, and I feel it is a fatal mistake to place too much faith in one man, whatever his position of power, whatever his true intentions. People fail, and after the period of orientation, I fear that many who support him now, all too quickly disillusioned, will not just be watching for him to fail (eagerly watching, at that), but willfully placing stumbling blocks in his path.

That's the cynic returning. No. It's the realist returning, but I believe that realism and cynicism are all too closely entwined. But for today, I see people daring to hope. They make me dare to hope. Whether I personally believe the new president's words or not, those words — and his presence — have generated what I fervently hope will be a long-lasting wave of positivity powerful enough counter widespread negativity. To turn frustration into inspiration. Pessimism into productivity.

What I dare to hope for is that Barack Obama will just be a good president.

And please, please, pardon this cliche, but I see no good way around it. (Mind you, I love Rush but I hate this song—except for the message of its opening lines, which to me, have strong meaning.)

"And the men who hold high places must be the ones who start
To mold a new reality closer to the heart."

Tagged! Six Random Things...

I almost never do these random meme things, but since I was tagged by my friend Dave, who also almost never does these random meme things, I figured I would get into the spirit and do this thing.

Okay. Six random things that most people probably don't know about me.

1) My girlfriend from 1982–83 is now Assistant Deputy Secretary of the U.S. Navy. Had we gotten married (which didn't seem too far beyond the realm of possibilities at the time), there's no telling where we might have ended up, but something tells me she would not now be Assistant Deputy Secretary of the U.S. Navy.

2) Speaking of getting married...at our wedding reception, Mrs Death and I danced the first dance to "Do You Remember Love?" which was the song played during the final battle in the 1984 anime feature Super Dimensional Fortress Macross: Do You Remember Love? (we gave the band the music so they could learn it). Our final dance of the night was to "Born to Be Wild."

3) When I was seven years old, there or about, I watched Godzilla, King of the Monsters on TV, and just as it ended, an earth tremor shook my hometown—the first in over a hundred years. At that moment, I became a true believer in Godzilla.

4) My favorite drink is a hot-pepper martini of my own recipe. But then you knew that.

5) From age 12 to age 32, there was never a time I didn't have at least one guinea pig for a pet.

6) I created Japanese Giants, a fanzine about Godzilla, kith and kin (believe it or not), when I was 14 years old. Because of it, I met hardcore daikaiju fans Bill Gudmundson and Ed Godziszewski, both of whom lived in Chicago. They took the helm for JG in subsequent years so that it would not die. When I got out of college, I moved to Chicago to: 1) be at the bustling hub of daikaiju fandom and 2) find gainful employment. I haven't really been involved with JG in recent years, but Ed has kept it going to this day, albeit irregularly and infrequently. While in Chicago, I ended up meeting Mrs Death at my place of employment, and marriage resulted. So, in essence, starting up JG was probably the event that set me on the path my adult life has taken. So here's a hot pepper martini to Japanese Giants.

And in the spirit of keeping this blog-thing going, I'm going to tag Maurice Broaddus, Matt Cardin, Bob Freeman, Alethea Kontis, Kim Paffenroth, and Stewart Sternberg.

THE RULES (for this game of tag):
1) LINK TO THE PERSON WHO TAGGED YOU.
2) POST THE RULES ON YOUR BLOG.
3) WRITE SIX RANDOM THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF.
4) TAG SIX PEOPLE AT THE END OF YOUR POST AND LINK TO THEM.
5) LET EACH PERSON KNOW THEY ARE TAGGED AND LEAVE A COMMENT ON THEIR BLOG.
6) LET THE TAGGER KNOW WHEN YOUR ENTRY IS UP.
7) DON’T BREAK THE CHAIN (not actually a rule).

It's Becoming a Habit

Finding old cars in the woods.

Came upon another one while bushwhacking around Lake Townsend on the hunt for a few new caches (found five). I knew there was one old auto nearby, since there's a cache hidden there, but this one was a surprise. Well, not too big a surprise, as they seem to be everywhere out there in the wild (Out Yonder and Baby, You Can Drive My Car, Redux).

Mein gott, Mark is tired and shagged out after the afternoon's nice hike. But the deadline looms, and there's still work to be done on "The End of Henry Switch Road," so tonight, work will be done. It's progressing nicely.

A gray but very pleasant day for hiking.

A Well-Oiled Machine

That's the name of a geocache placed in honor of my impending one-thousandth cache find, which isn't too far down the road now. This one was a slippery challenge, to be sure. In fact, if you live within a hundred miles of here, you probably heard me fussing and hollering and yelling and kicking and screaming as I labored to conquer the thing — and finally succeeded. So, I'm one cache closer now to the big 1K.

Otherwise, I'm working on an interview for Fearzone.com about Dark Shadows: Path of Fate and a new short tale titled "The End of Henry Switch Road." It's all flowing pretty well. Have gotten both bad news and good news on the writing front, so I guess it all evens out in the end...

I Owe the Author a Drink...

...so I had a martini.

The Dark Shadows audio drama I wrote, The Path of Fate, is now officially available from Big Finish. It's the first time something I've written has been performed professionally, so I've been eager to hear how the finished product compares to what I heard in my head while composing it. I listened to it for the first time this morning, and by and large, it's pretty true to my original mental construct. Some aspects are, as expected, rather different, but its most intense moments are perhaps even more intense than I might have expected. As it moved toward its climax, I found myself going "Whoa." And I mean, "WHOA!" The actors (David Selby and Lara Parker) really gave the drama a fine treatment, particularly in its more, uh, energetic passages. While I can't exactly put myself in the position of a listener experiencing the story for the first time, I was able to listen to at least portions of it in the company of a partner at the office — an old-time Dark Shadows fan, at that — who was experiencing it for the first time.

By her reaction, I'd say she was pleased, perhaps more than a little. And that pleased me, like, more than a little, too.

Like anything I've written, Dark Shadows: The Path of Fate will have its admirers and detractors, and that's all fine and as it should be. How ever it's received by ye audience, to me, it's kind of a landmark in the ol' career.

So I consider that martini at least reasonably well-deserved.

Ack. Gack.

To kick off 2009, I'm posting no year-out, year-in words of wisdom; no lists; no vivid and exciting adventure stories.

F'ing cold bug. It's a nasty one, and it's all I can do to manage getting these several stories written and tidied up to get off to editors by deadline. And it's back to the office tomorrow, no matter how I feel, as we're off to a heavy start for the new year. Which is, all things considered in this economy—or lack thereof—a damn good thing.

At least things on the writing front are still keeping me hopping. Also a damn good thing. Sure would help to feel better, though. It was particularly frustrating yesterday, as it was absolutely perfect caching weather.

Oh, yes. This year, there will be caches hidden and found, and I expect lots of them. January 12 is the one-year anniversary of my first cache find, and right now, I'm just shy of 900. Perhaps in February, I'll hit 1K.

Man, I feel better already.

Terror Alert

This is a hoot.