I Don’t Even Like Lovecraft…
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…but I will admit that bit from HPL gives me shivers.
In the mood for a Fairy Tale Told by a Naughty Girl? Go visit The Ghoul Next Door. She’s feeling wicked.
Image Credits: The Daily Mail
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Intimacy
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Once in line at the supermarket I saw a boy barely taller than a toddler with three large growths on his head, three pink bubbles boiling from his brain, as if a needle had been slipped between skin and skull and pumped air into his flesh. A single prick and his face would explode.
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I thought of you as I watched him eat a candy bar, watched him smear mud and drool across his lips, watched his eyes fly open with desire, point to a Tonka Toy and babble at his father. The father flinched in his slow moving dream of brown paper bags and woke to the ring ding bright light thank you have a nice day of the check-out line. The father’s mouth popped open, as if he had never seen any of it ever before.
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Amazing, how the food just kept coming down those cracked black belts.
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The father asked the boy what he wanted. The boy pointed to the Tonka. The father shook his head No.
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I thought of you. The smell of your hair, the scar on your leg, how you ground your teeth when you slept in my bed, how you pinched your face and listened patiently to my hum-drum-doo-dah-I-love-you life stories.
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Artist of the Week: RUSS MILLS
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“My illustrations are not too scientific, they begin life as sketches in ink, the tool of choice is the Bic ‘fine’ because it gives me a lot more mileage than more expensive, snootier fine liners that break if you give them too much stick…”
Get ready for your eyeballs to become unbuckled; blast straight into Russ’s gallery HERE.
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Banshee’s Love Song
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I barely remember…
Barely remember…
Those nights I drowned
in deep pools of desire,
so dizzy
with the knowledge
I was one with the wind
the night the moon the
death…
I cried and cried
and ached…
But silence was
my only kiss.
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Now, now,
I roam these woods
searching for that lonely embrace
that final breath to share and smother
one last lover to pull beneath the water.
What other rhythm is there?
What else is worth wanting?
Why would I weep as I do,
just to be alone?
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This Blog Is ONE YEAR OLD TODAY
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And Eddie says: “………”
(Well, Eddie doesn’t talk. Not because he’s made out of plastic, the character never talks. He comes on stage, the guitarists [Dave, Adrian, and Yanick] faux beat him with their axes, and Eddie retreats. That’s if he’s walking. The really big Eddie puppets just sort of erupt out of—or above—the stage and nod and sneer and grimace at the audience, and…)
Anyway. I’ve been doing this for a year. I’m tempted to say, “And I STILL don’t know what the fuck I’m doing!” and work that schtick for all it’s worth, you know, for laughs, but I won’t, because it’s not exactly true. I do have an idea of what I’m doing, and I’m actually starting to enjoy it, to not worry so much, to be a whole lot less uptight. One year ago, I absolutely did not know what I was doing. Hey, look at me now: links that work! Ha. But you know what I’m saying.
I just wish that I had more to report on the Draxian Fiction Front, because that’s like, the point.
I write stories and novels, and I stamp them with the name Drax. An aside: the pseudonym is a venerable literary tradition. Twain, Mishima, Orwell… all phony, yo. That’s just off the top of my head. (OK, everybody knows that about Twain, but still.) If I reached for one of my anthologies (or clicked wiki, sigh), I could give you a dozen more, and I’m pretty sure even a fairly well-schooled reader would say, “Really? He/she made up that name? Huh.” But whatever. Got distracted. Back to the point: This blog was built as on online presence for the Fiction of Simon Drax. And the only fiction I’ve got going at the moment, as in, “going-going,” is goddamn DOOMTROOPERS…
…and no one’s fucking reading it, man!
I slaved over that novel. Ugh! Slaved over it, suffered with paralyzing self-consciousness over its content for freakin’ years… Ugh! Ugh! Aiy!!! When all the publishers went super-manga-crazy a few years ago, I thought, well, maybe… But it seems that big/little bump has come and gone. Oh well. It’s one thing to give it away for free (maybe I should have inserted the word BEER after FREE), but to throw it out there for free and have nobody, literally, NO-BODY read it, it’s…
Oh, hell. It’s okay. Hey, I guess it just… sucks. The story, the writing, everything. DOOMTROOPERS. I guess it sucks. I don’t know.
I guess it’s something I have to just… let go. Like setting it ablaze, man, like letting the individual sheets of the manuscript drift one by one down the stream, trickling far away, you know, goodbye. Just let it go.
Don’t think I won’t promote each chapter as it pubs on Sunday, though. It’s going to get louder and bigger. LOUD.
Anyway, I just wish I had more to report on “other fronts.” I do. I can’t talk about them. Because nothing’s concrete. That is, I have not yet decided what I’m going to do. Running DOOMTROOPERS online was intended as a buffer while I regrouped, assembled the battleplan; it was intended to bolster my spirits, HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! (I will never ever tire of writing “ha ha,” never.)
Because once I commit to whatever it is I’m going do, trust me, I will do it. There are multiple projects I would like to work on, but I have to be sure, I have to ask myself, “Is such and such feasible? Is project x really that good an idea?” And so on. I’m sure you writerly types can relate. It is a big goddamn commitment. And any big goddamn commitment can turn on a dime, man, because I’m shopping shit (DESCENT, EXIT VECTOR), all the time. The best laid plans…
Oh, man, this became something of a babble, something of a rant. Time to wrap it up. Tell you what: the master plan shall be revealed, soon. It’s already goddamn March. The future’s out there, yeah? And my past is currently sitting ignored at DOOMTROOPERS. And that is going to have to be cool, it’s going to have to be okay.
Happy Birthday, Ichiban Weapon Ready. Happy birthday, simon fucking drax dot com. Oh yeah! Who wants a cigarette?!
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MOLTEN LIGHT: A Strange, Eerie, Yet Satisfying Tale
And it’s probably NSFW. Unless you want your coworkers’ suspicions regarding your drug use confirmed…
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OH, outstanding. Embedding disabled. Sorry. Just click the underlined WATCH ON YOU TUBE, above.
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