Screw the Devil

Sunday afternoon, I took a break from working on my latest project—a script for a new Dark Shadows audio drama—to do a little caching. Headed down to the Devil's Tramping Ground, about 45 minutes south of here, with my neighbors Paul and Jamie, looking to pick up geocache #2,000.

The Devil's Tramping Ground is one of those fabled spots where nothing grows, and reportedly, if anything is left there overnight, it will mysteriously disappear. Well, I don't know about that, but after a solid hour of hunting, we were unable to turn up the cache. I suspect the devil stole it—probably disguised as Boy Scouts cleaning up trash in the area. The site itself is fairly unremarkable; if you didn't know it was the Devil's Tramping Ground, you'd mistake it for just another clearing—albeit in this case, a clearing with "Screw the Devil" etched in the ground.

Anyhoo, the afternoon was far from a waste. I picked up #2,000 at a nearby cemetery, so at least it was suitably grim (though the cache is called Scout's Honor—whoa). Have snagged a few caches since, so I'm on the journey to #3,000, which will no doubt be quite some time coming, since I've pretty much gotten all the local caches that don't require a bunch of traveling to get to.

So now, it's back to the script, which is progressing quite well...at least as far as ye humble author is concerned.

How about a little fire, Devil?

Grabbing cache #2,000

The nearby cemetery at Scout's Honor

Sunburn, Spiders, and Savannah

Have returned from a very relaxing trip to Hilton Head, SC, with Mrs Death and some good friends of ours from Chicago. Geocaches aplenty (right about 50, which gives me a total of 1,994), some good food and drink, and a wee bit of red skin. Nothing serious, as that 30-caliber sunscreen is kind of like wrapping one's self in an Egyptian burial shroud. Spent a day in Savannah, GA, in the historical district, which I really loved; always knew Savannah had a long and colorful history, but no idea how rich until we went on one of those touristy but enjoyable and informative trolley tours. Even managed to be productive—got several pages done on my new Dark Shadows script, which is due in the not-too-distant future.

One of the most impressive sights of the trip was the web of a nephila (golden orb) spider, which extended from the top of the second floor of an old house to the ground — about 20 ft. high and 15 ft. wide. The spider itself was almost the size of my hand. At least he was pretty far up there and disinclined to come down and pay me a visit. However, while hunting for a geocache in the woods, I was proceeding along leisurely, keeping my eyes on the ground, and when I looked up, there was a big old nephila spider, about six inches from my face. "Dude!" I cried, and backed up quickly. The spider had a very distinctive "M" on its abdomen, in a nice script font; something I would never have noticed had I not seen it at such uncomfortably close range.

One of the caches I hunted was guarded by an alligator. Fortunately, Mr. Gator contented himself out in the middle of his pond. He was probably quite full from the last cachers he et.

I figured that, after having had several days off from work, it would be smart to ease myself back into the schedule by taking the afternoon off today, but for unknown reasons, this idea didn't seem consistent with the boss's reasoning. Sheesh! Well, it was good while it lasted.

New DARK SHADOWS Dramas Forthcoming

Dark Shadows: Curse of the Pharaoh, the audio drama I wrote for Big Finish Productions, should be hitting the street any day now. It stars original TV-series cast members Nancy Barrett as Carolyn Stoddard and Marie Wallace as Egyptologist Gretchen Warwick.

From the Big Finish promo page:

"Marie Wallace is full of enthusiasm for her new character, Gretchen: 'When I received the script, I read it from beginning to end and was so intrigued by the character of Gretchen. She had all the qualities that make a person interesting, compelling, fascinating, and out of the ordinary. Such fun to play! And of course, to then work opposite Nancy Barrett, with whom I hadn’t been on camera for many a year, why, I couldn’t ask for anything more… Until the next script comes along!'"

For more news, including ordering info, about this and several forthcoming Dark Shadows audio dramas, visit the Big Finish news page.

"Shapes in the Illusive Night" in INHUMAN #4

I'm thrilled to discover that artist and editor Allen Koszowski is publishing issue #4 of Inhuman magazine, to feature my short story, "Shapes in the Illusive Night." I had written the tale many years ago (2002, if I'm not mistaken), and Allen K. bought it for the magazine, but due to various situations, it looked entirely possible that Inhuman had met its demise. Happily, it has not, and I hope the publication will be back on track for a long, rewarding future. In its short run of three issues, it had become one of my all-time favorite small press endeavors. So good to see new life being breathed into it—and to be a part of the new issue. Check out Allen's Web site for more information and to order the issue: Allen K's Inhuman Magazine

Spent most of this week working on a possible new short story collection. Unfortunately, Mrs Death is not doing well, health-wise, which has been a major source of concern and slowed my work somewhat. But writing-wise, all is in good shape at the moment. Hoping and praying it will work that way for Mrs Death as well.

Belabored...

...mostly in a good way. Lots of activity keeping me busy — most notably, the possibility of a new short story collection and a new Dark Shadows audio drama script. Deadlines, as always, are a bit tight. Keeps me focused, I reckon...

The Labor Day weekend, at least, has been fairly relaxing. On Friday night, next-door neighbors Paul & Jamie and friend David Foxworth went out on an excellent night-caching run to Lake Higgins. Love hitting the trail to find night caches; such unique character and atmosphere. Then, Saturday, Paul accompanied me to Martinsville for a big caching trip. Stayed at my mom's, found caches in Danville, Martinsville, and Eden; hiked, hiked, and hiked; then we did some hiking. Holy cows...the feetses were a little sore. But then today, went with Paul and his lovely wife Jamie to Gibson Park, over near High Point, and hiked...hiked...hiked...and hiked — yes, you guessed it, for a passel of caches. Undertook numerous enjoyable terrain challenges, found some cool loot, and drank a few beers. No complaints about any of that. Not one bit.

The feetses, though, kinda ache.

CURSE OF THE PHARAOH Available for Pre-Order

The newest Dark Shadows audio drama, Curse of the Pharaoh, which I wrote for Big Finish Productions, is now up for pre-order: DS: COTP. Should be out within the next few weeks; if this one follows the manner of previous releases, when you order the CD, you also get to download it for free so you can listen to it as soon as it's available. Curse of the Pharaoh stars original TV series cast members Nancy Barrett as Carolyn Stoddard and Marie Wallace as Egyptologist Gretchen Warwick.

It's very reasonably priced at $13.00, and Big Finish is very good about shipping items promptly. The audio dramas are stand-alone productions, but having prior knowledge of the Dark Shadows storyline doesn't hurt, of course. On the whole, Big Finish has outdone themselves on the production of these, with great performances, sound effects, and new music. Needless to say, I recommend 'em. For more info on the story, you can check out the preview page on my Web site: Dark Shadows: Curse of the Pharaoh.

Monsters, Music, and Mayhem

Back in July, a couple of aging juvenile delinquents who weren't able to travel to Chicago to attend G-Fest (G for Godzilla, of course) got together for a mini G-Fest here at home. Mr. Bill Mann and I watched few daikaiju flicks and exchanged a relatively large number of phrases and sentences—at least a few of them immaculately constructed—on the subject of giant monsters. We enjoyed the whole business so much we decided that we could stand to do it again. So yesterday, we did this thing, adding to the guest list one Mr. Wayne Miller (whose extraordinary artwork graces the cover of my fiction collection, Other Gods, among many other books and periodicals).

We partook of some gems and some things other, including Godzilla: Final Wars, Attack of the Crab Monsters, and Monster X Strikes Back: Attack the G8 Summit! I've seen Godzilla: Final Wars many times now, and I find it an almost perfectly balanced film: for its every excellent aspect, it features another that is correspondingly abysmal. Attack of the Crab Monsters is a hoot, and probably the most enjoyable of the bunch. It was nice to see the thing in its entirety after having slept through portions of it when it ran on late-night TV a couple of years back (Crab Attack). As for Monster X Strikes Back...occasionally, it had us in stitches, though most of the time we pretty much gaped in horror at what had been wrought. I mean, goodness gracious me.

There was food in abundance here, and the monsters were free to eat as much of it as we could catch. It was another fine time, so I foresee yet another Mini G-Fest over the not-so-distant horizon.

Then it was off to Winston-Salem to catch my brother perform a show at the Garage (same venue where my friend Kim and I occasionally make noise). Lots of good music and company. Ended the evening by going caching on my way home—and as has become typical for my urban cache outings, particularly this late-night stuff, I had the pleasure of explaining geocaching to a sheriff's deputy. She was very thorough in checking me out (which I consider a reasonable thing—it means the police are doing their jobs), but also very understanding and quite taken with the idea of caching. Perhaps we have another convert. Anyhoo, got in about 2:00 A.M., after a most gratifying day. Every now and then, it just pays to have one of these.

Dammit...

Not sure who opened the floodgates, but in recent days, our place seems to have become a feral cat hotel. Three or four started coming around a couple of months ago, including a white Persian who is wilder and more ornery than a mountain lion (see pic above). Another one was obviously pregnant, but we haven't seen her in quite a while, and we hoped she might have managed to find greener pastures. Well...who knows...but three kittens suddenly appeared on our back porch the other day, and the white Persian—who is obviously not the mother but possibly the father—seems to have adopted the little things. They're such beautiful critters, but truly wild and very easily spooked; we really can't even get near them without them either running away or clawing us. I hate the idea of them starving to death, so we've started leaving some food out—yeah, I know, I know—but if it's even possible to round them up, I expect we'll have to get them to the Humane Society or something. It breaks my heart to see these animals abandoned and left to their own devices...and there are so many of them around now. The bad thing is that we're not in a position to take in more than the three cats we already have, and our spoiled domestics would certainly not mix well with these beasts.

So. Dammit.

Kind of a Kalem Klub

Joe "The Pulverizer" Pulver and Robert M. Price

Mr. Price and Helix the Cat—a rare delicacy

Spent an enjoyable weekend in Selma, NC, at the Robert M. Price abode, which played host to Lovecraftian comrades-in-arms Joe Pulver and that Mr. Deathrealm dude. Good eats, good yakking, and good DVDs, including The Mist and a biopic of H. P. Lovecraft, which featured the likes of Peter Straub, Neil Gaiman, Caitlin Kiernan, Ramsey Campbell, John Carpenter, Stuart Gordon, and Mr. Price himself. Not as much sleep happening as most old farts prefer... And 44 caches grabbed betwixt coming and going. Most satisfying. This weekend was also the 23rd wedding anniversary for Mrs. Death and me. We did manage to get in some quality time together and lament the senseless death of so many years. How do these horrific things happen, one must wonder....

Find the Horror...

A short while back, Tim Deal of Shroud Publications asked several author/geocachers around the country to place geocaches containing some nice Shroud-related prizes. It's a neat idea, so I was happy to contribute one of the hides. It's #4, titled "Crowley," and it's located...not too far from where I reside.

Come and find it...if you dare. The coordinates for all the caches may be found here: Shroud Publications' Find the Horror

Some hints are included. If you're looking for Crowley and need help, drop me a line.

Young 'Uns

A pleasant weekend visit from Allison, our young'un, and her friend Larry. Watched a couple of Asian gore flicks—Takashi Miike's Ichi the Killer and a Thai rip-off of Ju-On called Sick Nurses—neither of which were very good, but provided reasonably entertaining diversions during the evening. For her birthday, Mrs Death had gotten a 90-inch inflatable pool, which is a weird damned thing, but we lounged in it last night and rather enjoyed it. Good eating, a spot of drinking (for some—no names mentioned—more than a spot), and good weather made for a right relaxing weekend.

Also posted a few of auctions on Ebay that might be of interest to horror and giant monster fans:

1) Three classic issues of Whispers magazine
2) Five issues of Weird Tales
3) Five Toho SF/Godzilla books

A Bit of the Racket...

...from open-mic night at The Garage, Winston-Salem, NC, 8-5-09. Kim Murphy and that dude performing Tindersticks' "Traveling Light."

Better quality here, though the first minute of the song is truncated: Traveling Light

New Interview in VORTEX Magazine

Vortex magazine interviewed me a few weeks ago about Dark Shadows: Curse of the Pharaoh, the new audio drama script I wrote for Big Finish Productions. The issue is now out, and the online version (PDF) can be found here: Rainey Days (the interview begins on page 12). The audio drama is due to be released later this month, and stars Nancy Barrett as Carolyn Stoddard and Marie Wallace as Professor Gretchen Warwick. Can't say much about the storyline, but it involves Egyptology, love and revenge, and the Great Old Ones. More on that soon....

Old Fiends is Good Fiends

The weekend's theme has been rather fiendish, actually. Friday night, Mrs Death and I got together with some old friends of mine, whom I think I've seen all of twice in the last 25 years. Talk about ghosts from the past! It was Mr Vance Pitzer's birthday, so he's now been made to feel appropriately aged, I do believe. Unfortunately, our mutual friends, the Albaneses, had issues that prevented them coming to the gathering, but we sort of rectified that last night. I had spent the afternoon placing a couple of new geocaches with spooky themes ("The Chatmoss Ghost" and "Sticks," based on Karl Edward Wagner's horror story of the same name), and so Joe, Suzy, and Sam went out into the deep, dark woods and found those little scary boxes.

One evening back in 1982, Mr Pitzer (pictured above, along with his lovely wife Kathy and some dude)—along with several other young friends (a few of whom were minors at the time) went to Pizza Hut. We ordered a pitcher of beer, but since there were minors at the table, the restaurant staff said they couldn't serve us any beer. Suitably indignant, Vance says to the waitress, "Don't you know who I am?" Unimpressed, she shakes her head. "I'm Mr Pitzer. My dad owns Pitzer Hut."

Needless to say, we got that pitcher of beer.

I'm Not Sure When I Became a Masochist....

Actually, yes I am. It was about the time I discovered that with a hand-held GPS, I could go out into the woods and find cool little boxes of crap. Since yesterday, I'd been feeling none-too-swell—headache, lethargy, somewhat feverish. Figured it might be a bug coming on. Well, by late this afternoon, I started feeling a bit more spry, so what did I do? I went out to Mackintosh Park in eastern Guilford County and hiked the three-mile loop trail. With all the side trips and backtracking to hunt the thirteen caches out yonder, it was easily four miles plus.

It's pretty hot and humid out there; no big deal. But as I near the farthest point, the sky darkens and thunder begins booming in the distance. I walk faster. After a time, the clouds break and the sun comes out again—ever so briefly. Then the thunder returns with renewed vigor. Mercy! Quite the artillery battle going on upstairs—and getting constantly closer. Sky turning darker. It's like night in the woods, and by now, I'm hustling to one cache after another, finding them lickety-split, and frantically signing the logs, hoping that maybe...just maybe...I might beat the nasty storm all too evidently on the way. Ah, well; I have a poncho in my backpack. I can at least keep my phone, GPS, camera, and most of me dry. So I press on.

Finally...down to one more cache on the list. But the most recent logs indicate that several hunters couldn't find it. Then, within a tenth of a mile of the target...oh, hell...the bottom drops out. Rain comes down in sheets and buckets, with a sound like a tornado. Lightning flashing and thunder booming. I'm so close to the parking lot now—less than a quarter mile—breaking out the poncho seems pointless.

Fortunately, I manage to stuff my electronic gadgets into the backpack and close it up before anything is ruined. Me, though...well, by the time I see the Rodan Mobile in the distance, I'm doing my all-time best impersonation of a drowned rat.

Well, at least I grabbed an even dozen geocaches, which was what it was all about anyway....

And an afternoon like this one prompts me to count my blessings that I can come out of the rain and into a nice dry house. A house filled with cats.

But...oh, God. I'm very late getting home, the missus is asleep, and the cats haven't been fed.

I have almost recovered from the stampede....

Three miles, or one? Oh, what the hell.

A nice view across the lake

Shortcut? Ha!

One mile down.

Near the midpoint

Two miles down.

Getting kind of dark and eerie

A nice little fellow

Almost there....

At last... the drowned rat reaches the end of the trail.

The Weight

It's easier for me to write a 10,000-word story or script than to summarize the idea in 500 words or less—and still convey a sense of character, narrative voice, setting, and flow of the plot. Which is exactly what I regularly need to do for various projects. Just finished up such a proposal for a new script and sent it off to the producer; whether it was successful or not, we will have to see, but for such a short little fellow, it sure seems to be a great weight off my shoulders. The nice thing about this one is that if it doesn't work for the specific project in hand, with some tweaking it can be reborn as another animal altogether. Well, hopefully, anyhow.

Now I've must practice some guitar work, as there's a fair chance I may be doing another open-mic performance this Wednesday at the Garage in Winston-Salem. If so, I'll post a note here and elsewhere, in case you're dying to come round and heave fluid-filled objects at my head.

Take a load off, Fanny.

What Are You Waiting For?!

Wow. I was only 10 years old at the time, but I remember the Apollo 11 mission about as vividly as I remember anything in my life. The majestic views of the skyscraper-size Saturn V on the launching pad. The spectacular launch on 7/16, replayed endlessly from numerous vantage points. The special bulletins on TV and radio as the spacecraft approached the moon. The docking with the Lunar Excursion Module. And finally, the touchdown, which I watched on our brand new color television—never mind that all the images from outer space were coming over in murky black and white.

You could see a circular blob outside the LEM windows, which might have been a pad of the landing legs on the dirty gray lunar surface. Endless voice transmissions back and forth. The same view out the LEM window...endlessly. On and on. "What are you bleeping waiting for?" I remember hollering at the TV. "You're on the moon! Get out there and bounce around in reduced gravity!" I was terrified that if they kept dicking around, the astronauts weren't going to get out of the LEM till after my bedtime, and I'd miss the whole historic business.

Much to my relief, my folks said I could stay up as long as it took. But that hardly assuaged my impatience. WHAT WERE THESE DADBLAMED ASTRONAUTS WAITING FOR? They were on THE MOON, for cryin' out loud!

Ah, such exuberance. Well, it probably didn't take nearly as long as it seemed before Neil Armstrong clambered out of the landing module and took that historic first step on extraterrestrial soil. And when, at last, he spoke that one memorable line—very possibly the most famous utterance in human history—I jumped from the couch and began running in circles around the house.

I should so love to have a moment like that again in my life. A life-defining and life-affirming moment. An experience that breaks down the very high, very hardened wall of cynicism and confirms that we, as a species, can achieve greatness when we set our minds to it. Something unspoiled by a media capable focusing on the constructive rather than the destructive and the dividing.

One can still dream. But I was fortunate that I was there, if only in my living room, when all this unfolded, forty years ago. It was a giant step in my own life.

Happy Barfday to Mrs Death

The missus and her friend Davina have their birthdays on the same day this week, so there was a big old party in their honor last night. They fixed themselves all nice looking and stuff, got cool presents, and generally made merry. Funny, though, how they keep getting older, while some of us really don't.
Yeah, I know...I'm gonna die for this....

Martinsville Cache-a-Latte

Geocachers tend to be a most excellent species of social animal, and frequently gather together in herds to eat, drink, and swap tales of the trail. They come in all sizes, shapes, sexes, and ages—from too young to walk to almost too old to walk. Many such critters gathered this evening in Martinsville, at the Daily Grind—a little cafe in a nice old uptown hotel building. A few lucky individuals were awarded with opportunities to be first-to-find on new, unpublished caches, and with excruciating effort, I talked Night-Hawk, Sneaky Bulldog (with whom I shared neat underground adventures a couple of weeks back; see Journey to the Centre of the Earth), Creacher, and the my long-lost reptilian relative, the White Dragon into dragging me along with them on their way to make the find. It was a good 'un, with perhaps a dirty laugh or two exchanged while on the hunt. (In fact, precious few of Sneaky Bulldog's laughs are even slightly clean.)

Our hosts, Scott and Chandres (Krazy Tribe), did a superb job coordinating things. Thanks, y'all, for a great time.

A nice evening to end a long day, as I'd taken off from work to put together a new audio drama script proposal. That one's done. But tomorrow...yet another one to develop.

G'night.

Geocaching Featured in the Martinsville Bulletin

It's just a weenie piece, but they did use a quote of mine (out of a twenty-minute-long interview). Fair little article.

High-Tech Treasure Hunt

The Big G of July

"G" for Godzilla, of course. With G-Fest happening in Chicago, but it not being in the cards for either friend Bill Mann or myself, we got together to watch giant monster movies today. And what a nice way to spend a day off. Varan, the Unbelievable, Godzilla vs. the Thing, Godzilla: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack, and even The Crater Lake Monster. Haven't done a movie marathon in ages, so this was a good hoot. Especially with a couple of hot-pepper martinis to wash them down.

All the fireworks going on outside just added an air of authenticity to the monster battles.

What a Racket!

Mark and Kim at the Garage, Winston-Salem, 6-24-09.

Journey to the Centre of the Earth

There's a nice new multi-cache in town called "Greensboro Underground," and guess where you get to hunt. Yes...down there. So, right after work, I met up with friends Night-Hawk (a.k.a. Tom) and the Sneaky Bulldog (a.k.a. Ethan), all of us dressed for the occasion and armed with several flashlights. Thus, we commenced our journey. To my chagrin, halfway through the adventure, my brightest light began to dim rapidly, even with relatively new batteries; happily, I carried a spare, and between us, there was no shortage of lighting.

At the first of the three stages, we snagged the coordinates for the next, held our tongues just right, and made our way into the earth's depths. Here, the diameter of our conduit was only about four feet, so it was t-i-g-h-t. And then what should our lights reveal but...spiders. BIG FAT HAIRY BLACK F-'ING SPIDERS—of the four-inch leg span variety—in mass profusion, hanging on every surface; up, down, and all around.

Night-Hawk and the Bulldog gently suggested that I go first.

All righty then! Only ever-so-slightly daunted, onward I went. You should have heard the Bulldog scream when one of the spiders passed right under his legs. Still, at a junction, he bravely took the point and found the requisite clue in short order. Another stage down. By now, it was nighttime, and when we burst exuberantly free of the depths and barreled onto the nearby sidewalk, we surprised an elderly woman walking her dog. Her cry of alarm may still be echoing somewhere out in space. We apologized and explained that we were running from a tunnel full of giant spiders. She made haste to part company with us.

For the third stage, we found ourselves with lots of ground—or rather, underground—to cover. At several junctions, we had more than one choice of tunnels to take, and it paid to choose wisely. At least in these, we could mostly stand upright. For a long distance, we were able to straddle the narrow streams flowing beneath our feet, and we began to think we might actually come out of this endeavor without getting soaking wet. However, came a time the water grew wider and deeper, so we finally said the heck with it, and now my boots are drying out for the next couple of days.

At long last, and lord knows how far in, I spied the cache. But it was here I made a grave mistake! Night-Hawk had kept right on going, but in my enthusiasm, I blurted, "It's here!" Had I not, he might still be down there having scads of fun while I'm lounging around above-ground, enjoying a post-cache martini. I'm sure I'll do better next time.

Actually, I'm glad Night-Hawk is still with us because he documented the whole journey with pics. I was reluctant to take my camera with me because I am a devout klutz, and probably would have dunked it.

At least I am a wise klutz.

Wait, what...?

The Bulldog wanted to play ball, so we let him.

On and on it goes...

Success....

It's Just Over Yonder

Photo by Rob Isenhour

Until I became a geocachevangelist, I had no idea how many ancient, rusted-out vehicles lurked back in the deep woods, partying all by their lonesomes, hanging around in the darkest of hillside thickets where no self-respecting, unrusted vehicle would ever dare venture. But Mr. Isenhour sure knows how to find 'em. And when he finds 'em, you can be sure he'll leave a cache there. Needless to say, this means that Damned Rodan will soon be along to hunt it.

Helluva hot, humid day to be out in the woods yesterday, but there were new caches to be found, so guess who was out there tempting heat exhaustion. Yep. Got first-to-find on "It's Just Over Yonder," pictured above, as well as on three other new caches hidden by Mr. Kidd (Night-Hawk). Much to my surprise, Mr. Kidd also managed to place a cache close to a rusted-out, upside-down car out in the deep woods. Quiet mysteries, these old vehicles....

Came home, worked on Important Stuff, and then, long about 10 P.M., had a terrible carrot dangled in front of my nose by Mr. Bunce (XbunceX): Late-night caching trip? Discovered at this point that, despite sheer exhaustion, Mr. Rodan cannot say no to a late-night caching trip. It doesn't mean I need therapy. It doesn't mean anything, except ten more caches under my belt at 2:30 in the A.M.

Closed the day with #1,538. Even got a little sleep.

Noticed on the Way Home From the Office:

A van for a home-repair business. Van had little paint left on it, a crushed fender, and insulation erupting from a long, ugly gash below the driver's door. Oh yeah, I so want to call on said business for my home repair needs.

Good Times and Good Byes

Caching along the Dan River with Krazi Tribe, Mrs Death, and Snoopinaround

It was quite the weekend for gathering with good friends and hunting caches. I found my 1,500th on Friday evening, albeit solo. Yesterday, Mrs Death and I went to Martinsville, met up with our friends Scott & Chandres & children (a.k.a. Krazi Tribe) and Ed (a.k.a. Kuykenew), and then headed over to Danville and Chatham to claim a bunch. Soon as we arrive at the Dan River, who should we run into but friend and fellow cacher from NC, Caroline (a.k.a. Snoopinaround). We find a few caches, only to get stopped and questioned by a sheriff, who is obviously suspicious of some of the exceedingly seedy-looking members of our party (see photo). Ms. Krazi tearfully explains that we are actually scouting locations for the 18th remake of A Pittsylvania Chainsaw Massacre, and since the original is the sheriff's favorite film, he lets us off easy.

That's a true story.

Last night, a fine dinner and pleasant evening in Danville and then Martinsville with the Albaneses. Today, Mrs Death and I returned to Greensboro to get with our friend Beth (a.k.a. UNCG BogTurtle) for an excellent afternoon/early evening snagging more caches and then having dinner. Alas, for the foreseeable future, it was our last outing with Ms BogTurtle, who is moving to Illinois tomorrow. Over the past year, we've had many incredible adventures and shared an amazing number of fantastic times. I don't think it's quite sunk in yet that she and her husband, Al, are really leaving.

I expect it will next time I head out to hunt a cache. A sincere bon voyage to Beth. Mrs Death and I both hope she has a fantastic experience in her new home and new stage of her career.

I guaran-ass-TEE you she won't be having as much fun as she had here, though....

Shades of "Sticks"

I've said it many times: geocaching takes me to some damn cool places, few of which I would otherwise discover on my own. Today, I ended up at Dan Daniel Memorial Park in Danville, and since it was such a gorgeous afternoon, it was filled to the brim with visitors.

This rather extensive park has a couple of nice trails, though—sadly—they've gone unmaintained for some time now. No money in the budget, alas. Still, the Hidden Hollow Trail and the Turkey Trot Trail offer some enjoyable hiking, and the former actually took me into an area that gave me the creeps. Whoa, you say. Okay, so it wasn't all that creepy, but by god, if it were in my book, I'd sure as hell make it creepy. I mean, I'm a horror writer, so making things creepy is my sworn, solemn duty. For one thing, though the rest of the park was loaded to the gills with muggles, there wasn't another living soul on the trails. Once I got out a good ways on the Hidden Hollow Trail, it essentially disappeared, no doubt due to little use and the torrential rains we've had over the past month or so. On my way to a cache called "The Grassy Knoll," I actually emerged at a grassy knoll, from which I could see an old house, a couple of shacks, and an ancient satellite dish out in a field.

If I'd heard the sound of a chainsaw, I would have expected to see Leatherface bearing down on me with malevolent glee. As it was, there was a strange silence there, bringing to mind the atmosphere of "Sticks," one of my favorite horror stories of all time, by my old friend, the late Karl Edward Wagner. Or perhaps "Pigeons From Hell," another favorite, by Robert E. Howard. At any rate, I had a wonderful afternoon out in the woods—despite coming out of there crawling with those little pinhead-sized ticks. I stopped counting at 30 as I pulled them off me and out of my clothes, and there must have been twice that many altogether.

Not necessarily scary, but pretty damned disgusting. Vile little bloodfuckers they are....

More Horror Than the Heart Can Stand

Mein Gott, the Noise II—For Real!

Not terribly great quality—just taken with my digital camera—but here's a glimpse of last night's horror, courtesy of yours truly and the stunning Kim Murphy (whose head has been sadly hatcheted from the frame).

Beer, wailing, and caching. Doesn't get much better. Almost didn't make it over to Winston, though, as the early evening storm in Greensboro literally drowned our place, and it was worse just down the road. Never seen the like. We were lucky not to have six inches of water in the living room. The front porch was under that much.

Anyhoo, maybe we'll give the Garage another shot one of these days. Love the venue.

Mein Gott, the Noise!

It's been a hellishly long time since I've played guitar and hollered in public, but I'm gonna up and do it. Yep. The Garage, 110 W. 7th St., Winston-Salem, NC 27101 (N 36° 06.166 W 080° 14.735), tomorrow evening (6/3) at 8:00 PM. If you're in the area, please come round. If I'm not mistaken, it doesn't cost anything but whatever you want to drink. I'll be doing an original or two as well as a cover of a song by The Decemberists, with the lovely and talented Ms. Kimberly Murphy accompanying. Don't be late; my set only lasts about 20 minutes (I'm the lucky soul leading off the evening).

If blame must be cast, please blame my brother, Phred, for providing the inspiration for this. Otherwise, just come and have a good time. It's a win-win situation, you know. If I sound good, you get to go home saying, "Damn, Mark sounded good." If I suck, you get to go home laughing your ass off.

Back From ConCarolinas

The con started out slow for me, but picked up nicely yesterday. Sold some books, yakked on panels, got with friends. Possible new development on the writing frontier as well. Last night, I discovered a decent Thai restaurant and found time to take a couple-mile hike and grab a half-dozen nearby caches. (Of course, on the way home today, I bagged another 25.)

Oddest thing lately, though. When I least expect it, my car pulls into a Taco Bell and orders something for me. I don't get it. Stupid damned car.

Relative Obscurity...

...is infinitely preferable to the idiocy of Kanye West, CFM.*

Kanye West Is a Proud Non-Reader, Author of Books

*Certified Fucking Moron

At ConCarolinas This Weekend...

I'll be a guest at ConCarolinas in Charlotte this weekend (Saturday 5/30 and Sunday 5/31), so come see me. I'll be on several panels and have several of my books available (most at a special con discount rate). I will not be there tomorrow night (Friday), alas.

Here's my schedule as it stands now:

Saturday, 5/30
10:00 AM—"After the Writing Is Done"
1:00 PM—"What Editors Want"
9:00 PM—"Wait Until Dark"
10:00 PM—"The Horror, The Horror"

Sunday, 5/31
11:00 AM—"Creating Gods"

The con is at the Hilton University Place, 8629 JM Keynes Drive, Charlotte, NC 28262, (704) 547-7444. Other guests include Katherine Kurtz (writer GOH), Alan Welch (artist GOH), Travis Taylor, James Maxey, Tony Ruggerio, Ed Schubert, and James Robert Smith (co-editor of Evermore).

Deer Island

It's become an annual tradition to spend Memorial Day weekend camping on Deer Island at Philpott Lake, VA, along with a mess o' friends. Done and done. Good weather, good food, good friends. One of the highlights for me was hiking Deer Island end to end. The island is a mile long and about a half mile wide, and I pretty much went around the circumference. It's also steeper than all getout. Several times, I reached a point and looked up, expecting to see sky. Nope; just more nearly vertical hillside. Undaunted, I went on until I reached the southernmost end.

Then I had to hike back.

It never felt so good to get off my feet—until after this morning's hike, which was only about half as long but twice as steep. Hoo! This morning, though, there was a geocache waiting for me at the end of it. Yep.

Click to enlarge pics.