Is he strong? Listen, bud. He's got radioactive blood.
2012 marked the fiftieth birthday of the Amazing Spider-man, my favorite superhero. I meant, for months, to blog about my love for this character, and why he means so much to me (being a fictional character, it's kind of strange how much I see him as an actual person, a friend even), but never felt ambitious enough. I knew it would take a while, and even if I wrote for hours, I would leave something out, such as the humanity of the character, the relatability of Peter Parker, his unique look and mannerisms.
But then I realized: if I just recorded my thoughts in front of a microphone, I could say whatever came in my head, and be done in fifteen minutes, whereas it would take a day or two to say as much in a blog.
So, here you go.
This still ended up taking a while longer than I expected it to, but hey, Spidey's worth it.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Birthmark
I was sitting at Der Weinerschnitzel today, having a chili dog and mulling over my failures in life, when a family came in. I glanced over at them, then went back to eating.
But then I paused. There had been something wrong with the boy. I looked over once again to see a little boy, around five years old, standing in the line. He was blond and cute and antsy, stomping his feet to shake off some of the snow . . . but there was something on his forehead.
I stared harder, willing my eyesight to improve somehow. There was a brown splotch on the boy's temple, right above his eyebrow, about two inches square. At first I thought it was a bruise, but it was too red for that. Some kind of growth, maybe? A cancerous growth?
But no, I realized that what it had to be was a birthmark. A big brown puzzle-piece shaped birthmark, smack in the center right of his forehead.
Holy moley, kids. What would life be like to have a big stain like that on your face, not only in childhood, but for the rest of your life? What nicknames would you get, what beatings would you encourage, what complexes would you develop, noticing that the first thing anybody notices when they look at you was the big discoloration on your temple. This poor child.
And I started to think of my own life, and how miserable I've been for so long, finding things to complain about even on days when nothing bad happens. Sure, I am a bit of a failure in life. Sure, I lost my job again yesterday. Sure, I'm somehow both skinny and fat. Sure, no woman will allow me to touch her, and when I've done it anyway, they've twitched and shook as though I'd dumped on some fire ants. Sure, I have very little money right now. Sure, my car's heater has broken, but I still owe nearly two thousand dollars to repair it from last time. Sure, what little talent I've been given in this life I have squandered by being too afraid of rejection to ever put myself out there. Sure, I will die alone, and soon.
As I finished my meal, my heart was filled with a warmth that even the frigid temperatures outside (and in my car) might not extinguish. Life is hard, yes, but it could be so much worse. I may have a lot of problems, and even more defects as a person, BUT AT LEAST I DIDN'T HAVE A BIG DARK BIRTHMARK ON MY FACE.
With that kind of freedom, I could start again. I could move away and begin a new life, and make of it as I wish. I could approach a pretty girl and say something to her, confident that whatever her reaction, she wouldn't be gazing in nausea at my forehead. I could get a job somewhere, start saving up, get a new car, and let it take me wherever my heart (my newly-warmed, newly hopeful heart) might wish to take me.
I stood, straighter than before, and moved toward the exit, glancing at the poor, saintly child with tears in the corners of my eyes, wishing I might be able to thank him, encourage him, tell him that although things are tough, they--
Up close, I saw that it was no birthmark.
It was a temporary tattoo of a Pokemon he'd applied himself, now fading almost to unrecognition.
Stupid fucking kid.
But then I paused. There had been something wrong with the boy. I looked over once again to see a little boy, around five years old, standing in the line. He was blond and cute and antsy, stomping his feet to shake off some of the snow . . . but there was something on his forehead.
I stared harder, willing my eyesight to improve somehow. There was a brown splotch on the boy's temple, right above his eyebrow, about two inches square. At first I thought it was a bruise, but it was too red for that. Some kind of growth, maybe? A cancerous growth?
But no, I realized that what it had to be was a birthmark. A big brown puzzle-piece shaped birthmark, smack in the center right of his forehead.
Holy moley, kids. What would life be like to have a big stain like that on your face, not only in childhood, but for the rest of your life? What nicknames would you get, what beatings would you encourage, what complexes would you develop, noticing that the first thing anybody notices when they look at you was the big discoloration on your temple. This poor child.
And I started to think of my own life, and how miserable I've been for so long, finding things to complain about even on days when nothing bad happens. Sure, I am a bit of a failure in life. Sure, I lost my job again yesterday. Sure, I'm somehow both skinny and fat. Sure, no woman will allow me to touch her, and when I've done it anyway, they've twitched and shook as though I'd dumped on some fire ants. Sure, I have very little money right now. Sure, my car's heater has broken, but I still owe nearly two thousand dollars to repair it from last time. Sure, what little talent I've been given in this life I have squandered by being too afraid of rejection to ever put myself out there. Sure, I will die alone, and soon.
As I finished my meal, my heart was filled with a warmth that even the frigid temperatures outside (and in my car) might not extinguish. Life is hard, yes, but it could be so much worse. I may have a lot of problems, and even more defects as a person, BUT AT LEAST I DIDN'T HAVE A BIG DARK BIRTHMARK ON MY FACE.
With that kind of freedom, I could start again. I could move away and begin a new life, and make of it as I wish. I could approach a pretty girl and say something to her, confident that whatever her reaction, she wouldn't be gazing in nausea at my forehead. I could get a job somewhere, start saving up, get a new car, and let it take me wherever my heart (my newly-warmed, newly hopeful heart) might wish to take me.
I stood, straighter than before, and moved toward the exit, glancing at the poor, saintly child with tears in the corners of my eyes, wishing I might be able to thank him, encourage him, tell him that although things are tough, they--
Up close, I saw that it was no birthmark.
It was a temporary tattoo of a Pokemon he'd applied himself, now fading almost to unrecognition.
Stupid fucking kid.
Monday, December 24, 2012
December 24th, 2012
I haven't posted on here in quite a while. I've been really busy, and both my writing and my podcasting has suffered. I didn't even get a chance to do my yearly viewing of LOVE ACTUALLY, which I'm sure my buddy Jeff managed to do this week.
Even so, I still watched it in my heart.
Even so, I still watched it in my heart.
Thursday, December 06, 2012
Where's Your Messiah Now, Moses?
I was taking my four year old nephew to the store today to look at toys (it was actually to pick up sour cream and hashbrowns, but who's counting?), when he said a disturbing thing.
He wanted the Skylanders game, and I told him it was very expensive, so he'd probably be better off asking Santa for it. Then he said, "Santa Claus isn't real. He's just a man in a costume."
Well, that really gave me pause. That a four year old would say such a thing doesn't seem natural. Four year olds should believe in all myths: unicorns, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, wishing on a star, true love, every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings, cheaters never prosper, the earth is six thousand years old, if you swallow a watermelon seed one will grow in your stomach, Miley Cyrus has talent, breaking a mirror gives you seven years bad luck, four leaf clovers give good luck, people with red hair are evil, if you step on a crack it'll break your mother's back, there's a pill that can make your unit grow, Tom Cruise marries for love, someday your prince will come, and there are no monsters--no real ones.
I tried to skirt around the issue, telling him that Santa comes every year, and he did when I was a boy too, and who else brings us those presents if we've been good, to millions of boys and girls?
Finally, I sighed, and realized that all the chatter around me must have been true, and that my little nephew ceased believing . . . because Obama was re-elected President. Sigh.
He wanted the Skylanders game, and I told him it was very expensive, so he'd probably be better off asking Santa for it. Then he said, "Santa Claus isn't real. He's just a man in a costume."
I tried to skirt around the issue, telling him that Santa comes every year, and he did when I was a boy too, and who else brings us those presents if we've been good, to millions of boys and girls?
Finally, I sighed, and realized that all the chatter around me must have been true, and that my little nephew ceased believing . . . because Obama was re-elected President. Sigh.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
The Chilling Sound of Your Doom
I know some of you out there delight at images such as these. But then, so did the Nazis.
Saturday, November 03, 2012
My Waste of Time
Right about the time our third episode of the Dunesteef hit the podosphere, a friend of mine suggested that Big and I were wasting our time with this particular endeavor. He was trying to make a point--a positive one, I'm sure--but I took it badly, and have never, ever forgotten it. As far as I know, he never listened to the show again, and he's the kind of guy who would've told me if he did.
But here we are, more than four years later. We're st--wait, let me leave Big out of this for a moment. I'm still doing the show (two shows now), and while there have been a couple of moments where we came close to shutting it all down (even going so far as to record a final episode a year and a half ago), I've never completely given up on the idea of podcasting as a valid use of my time. It fulfills a dream of mine, which was to be a radio host or DJ, and also provides me with a creative outlet every single week. I get to drive over to my friend's house and do battle with his family over his attention, and hang out with Big, go on walks, and try to make him (and an invisible audience) laugh.
But it is a great deal of work, and as my credit card statement reminds me, not extraordinarily lucrative. I don't know why, but for every minute of finished podcast, it takes several minutes of recording, transferring, editing, saving, transferring back, levelizing, and problem checking, and no matter how much time I assume something will take, it always takes more. Plus, because I get a kind of creative fulfillment from this work, I often ignore my other creative endeavors in favor of it, or simply have little energy (or time) to pursue those.
We--sorry, I--decided it would be a worthy pursuit to record thirteen shows for Halloween last month, and put them up in the days leading up to the 31st, as a tribute to my favorite holiday, and hoping that it encouraged people to toss us a few spare dollars. It too ended up being way more time-consuming than I ever would've guessed, stopped being fun at one point, and there were times when I wanted to throw my hands in the air and forget the whole thing, since nobody was going to care either way.
I didn't quit, in the end, but I sure as hell burned myself out with that ordeal, and haven't edited anything since then.
Also, last night we had our very first in-house guest on the show, and it ended up taking us into the wee hours of the morning to do all the recording, even though we still left a couple of things we'd planned to get to on the to-do list. I had to try and get some real dollar-value work done this morning, and it was hard to manage with less than five hours of sleep.
(do you have a point? my inner Donald Duck Devil is asking)
The point is, I sometimes wonder if it is a waste of time, as my friend suggested. And then I get a letter like I did today. A listener in New York wrote us, talking about the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, and our thirteen episode marathon helping keep him sane during the insanity that followed.
If I can be so crass as to quote from his message:
"Yesterday...I borrowed [a] bike to traverse across the East River and get to the office. It was a ghost town south of 39th Street. While I'm going through a scene of a post-apocalyptic city, I was listening to episode after episode of "13 Nights of Halloween." There are people filling jugs of water from fire hydrants, crowds of people surrounding libraries (the only locations with WiFi) and the streets are dark and abandoned, no lights from the stores or the lamps.
"I know it's hokey, but the normalizing conversation that Rish and Big were having kept my mind focused on the fact that this catastrophe was temporary, not the usual, and that reality would come back online soon."
He said that he wasn't able to dress up for Halloween this year or go to any parties, but listening to us talk about those things made him feel like he had. We made him think of times past when there were more trivial concerns and trials on his mind, and hope that those times came again. "Listening to Rish and Big," he said, "I *felt* like I was a part of that world. For whatever weird time, I *lived* through them and their experiences, which beats anything of mine."
This guy, who we've never met, said we were his favorite podcast, and when he really needed it, we were there for him.
Today, I don't feel like I wasted my time. Today, I'm ready to work on the podcast again.
Rish
But here we are, more than four years later. We're st--wait, let me leave Big out of this for a moment. I'm still doing the show (two shows now), and while there have been a couple of moments where we came close to shutting it all down (even going so far as to record a final episode a year and a half ago), I've never completely given up on the idea of podcasting as a valid use of my time. It fulfills a dream of mine, which was to be a radio host or DJ, and also provides me with a creative outlet every single week. I get to drive over to my friend's house and do battle with his family over his attention, and hang out with Big, go on walks, and try to make him (and an invisible audience) laugh.
But it is a great deal of work, and as my credit card statement reminds me, not extraordinarily lucrative. I don't know why, but for every minute of finished podcast, it takes several minutes of recording, transferring, editing, saving, transferring back, levelizing, and problem checking, and no matter how much time I assume something will take, it always takes more. Plus, because I get a kind of creative fulfillment from this work, I often ignore my other creative endeavors in favor of it, or simply have little energy (or time) to pursue those.
We--sorry, I--decided it would be a worthy pursuit to record thirteen shows for Halloween last month, and put them up in the days leading up to the 31st, as a tribute to my favorite holiday, and hoping that it encouraged people to toss us a few spare dollars. It too ended up being way more time-consuming than I ever would've guessed, stopped being fun at one point, and there were times when I wanted to throw my hands in the air and forget the whole thing, since nobody was going to care either way.
I didn't quit, in the end, but I sure as hell burned myself out with that ordeal, and haven't edited anything since then.
Also, last night we had our very first in-house guest on the show, and it ended up taking us into the wee hours of the morning to do all the recording, even though we still left a couple of things we'd planned to get to on the to-do list. I had to try and get some real dollar-value work done this morning, and it was hard to manage with less than five hours of sleep.
(do you have a point? my inner Donald Duck Devil is asking)
The point is, I sometimes wonder if it is a waste of time, as my friend suggested. And then I get a letter like I did today. A listener in New York wrote us, talking about the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, and our thirteen episode marathon helping keep him sane during the insanity that followed.
If I can be so crass as to quote from his message:
"Yesterday...I borrowed [a] bike to traverse across the East River and get to the office. It was a ghost town south of 39th Street. While I'm going through a scene of a post-apocalyptic city, I was listening to episode after episode of "13 Nights of Halloween." There are people filling jugs of water from fire hydrants, crowds of people surrounding libraries (the only locations with WiFi) and the streets are dark and abandoned, no lights from the stores or the lamps.
"I know it's hokey, but the normalizing conversation that Rish and Big were having kept my mind focused on the fact that this catastrophe was temporary, not the usual, and that reality would come back online soon."
He said that he wasn't able to dress up for Halloween this year or go to any parties, but listening to us talk about those things made him feel like he had. We made him think of times past when there were more trivial concerns and trials on his mind, and hope that those times came again. "Listening to Rish and Big," he said, "I *felt* like I was a part of that world. For whatever weird time, I *lived* through them and their experiences, which beats anything of mine."
This guy, who we've never met, said we were his favorite podcast, and when he really needed it, we were there for him.
Today, I don't feel like I wasted my time. Today, I'm ready to work on the podcast again.
Rish
Thursday, November 01, 2012
Trick or Treat?
So, I had various plans for Halloween night, a play with my uncle, a scary movie with my sister, trick or treating with my nephews. But none of it ended up happening. I put on a costume to greet the children who came to my door, but the stench of death (or maybe it was failure, they smell so much alike) kept them away.
I was bummed out that my favorite night of the year was pretty much squandered with blogging and work.
But ah well, somebody's got to burn in hell, to make y'all's paradise seem sunnier.
Regardless, I awoke this morning to some good news: another of my short stories has been podcast, and is available to listen to. This one is called "The Visitor" and is presented on the Midnight Circle horror show.
Link: http://midnightcircle.com/the-visitor
I wrote "The Visitor" about a decade ago, as part of a contest for a now-defunct horror website. I didn't win the contest, and the feedback I received was . . . wait for it . . . that the story was predictable. It tells the story of an old woman who returns to her woodland cottage to find a note from the Grim Reaper.
I thought it would be fun to write the story in Spanish, for my grandmother who was ill at the time. I found that however limited my writing skill is in English, it's way more so in another language. The podcast version is read by William Macrae-Smith, who kindly stuck to the English text.
I was bummed out that my favorite night of the year was pretty much squandered with blogging and work.
But ah well, somebody's got to burn in hell, to make y'all's paradise seem sunnier.
Regardless, I awoke this morning to some good news: another of my short stories has been podcast, and is available to listen to. This one is called "The Visitor" and is presented on the Midnight Circle horror show.
Link: http://midnightcircle.com/the-visitor
I wrote "The Visitor" about a decade ago, as part of a contest for a now-defunct horror website. I didn't win the contest, and the feedback I received was . . . wait for it . . . that the story was predictable. It tells the story of an old woman who returns to her woodland cottage to find a note from the Grim Reaper.
I thought it would be fun to write the story in Spanish, for my grandmother who was ill at the time. I found that however limited my writing skill is in English, it's way more so in another language. The podcast version is read by William Macrae-Smith, who kindly stuck to the English text.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
"We're ready to believe you!"
October 2012
I think it was two years ago when my pal Rhett asked if I'd be interested in going ghost hunting with him the weekend before Halloween. Of course, I said yes, but I must not have said it loud enough, because we didn't end up going, and last year, something happened to upset our plans. So I made sure to let him know well in advance that I wanted to go this year, in no uncertain terms.
I've known Rhett since high school, and we became really good friends our Senior year. He is something of a believer in the supernatural, and has told many an entertaining ghost story over the years. He even kindly offered to drive out there and arrange the whole thing (which is a nice change). We drove about an hour, listening to Oingo Boingo, talking about THE AVENGERS, and got their just before it was about to start.
The location was a pre-Civil War army base (and town) that had been converted in the 1960'[s into a state park and museum. The park gives tours throughout the year, but on the weekend before Halloween, they give a special, haunted tour. Or maybe I should say "haunted," in case a prostate-sucking lawyer is once again reading my blog.
There was a ranger who gives tours and information, and at seven pm, he took us into a little old fashioned schoolhouse where he did a bit of a presentation. He talked about the history of the camp, and the various ways people had died there (this was prompted by me), and shared photographs and experiences people had had while visiting. There are three different phenomena he said photographers had captured: orbs (which are circles of light in photos), ribbons (which are colored lines or squiggles in the air), and apparitions (which are . . . something else). He showed us examples, then debunked some of the photos. But some of the things captured remain unexplained (there were a couple that looked like a little girl, and one or two more that had definite[?] human shapes).
The ranger was trying to be impartial, but you could tell that he was not a believer. He never came out and called the whole thing hokum, but when I asked him later, he sort of shrugged the general idea off. He was a nice guy, but he could have scared us all much better had he only played up the mystery a bit more. Not that that was his job, necessarily, but you know me, and what I mean. I counted around a dozen children in the audience, so maybe that encouraged him to leave the brake on, and keep it from being genuinely scary. But still, who takes an easily-frightened kid on a ghost tour?
So, we were in a group of thirty to thirty-five, and after the presentation, we were invited to walk the grounds, the stagecoach inn, the schoolhouse, yards, general store, and the nearby camp cemetery. Rhett and I immediately broke off the main group and drove over to the cemetery.
It was a cloudy night, and we were the only ones there, so all was dark--like completely pitch black. I mean, it was so dark that the only thing you could see was the stars and whatever was in front of you when your flash went off. That was a perfect opportunity for a really terrifying experience, but no "beings" showed up in the quarter-second flashes of light.
There were many identical headstones, spreading in a nonsensical pattern, and later I found that they say "Unknown" on them. Originally, they were wooden markers, but they'd been lost over the years, and even though the authorities know there are bodies down there (from electronic mapping), they have no idea who is buried where.
Rhett originally pulled onto the wrong road (because it was so dark, and this camp is out in the middle of nowhere), and backing us out again, we went into a gully, where we were lucky to get out again, and that it did no damage to the car (although he said it bent up the license plate).
So, let me expand on what I said earlier. The camp is supposed to be haunted, and people have recorded voices, experienced things like a little girl laughing, being tapped on the shoulder while working, EVP aplenty, and felt presences. Mostly, though, it's been photographs, as the slideshow depicted (the photos he showed us were all taken on this yearly tour and sent via their Facebook page). Apparently, there are i-Phone apps for electromagnetic spectrum and infrared, as well as EKG and custom ghost-hunting stuff. But I have no i-Phone or similar, and I didn't think to bring a recording device, but I had my camera, and proceeded to take a ton of photographs (originally, I wrote "about seventy" here, but that was an understatement).
The funny thing is, at the very beginning of the event (in the schoolhouse), my "battery low" light started going off, so I knew I was in trouble (and I hadn't brought any spare batteries), but it didn't actually die until the tour was over nearly three hours later.
Because I hardly ever see Rhett, and because of our shared history, I pretty much couldn't shut up the whole evening. Maybe that wasn't conducive to ghost attracting. Sorry, man.
I've learned from experience that it's difficult to intersperse a real blog entry with a bunch of photos, so I'll split this up into sections.
Here we are first arriving, right before night fell.
My buddy Rhett caught one of those orbs in a picture and showed it to the park ranger/host. Oddly enough, there's an orb in my picture of him doing that.
Another cool one here (zoomed in so you can see the dude in the doorway).
All in all, I took one hundred and eighty-six photographs (which is about a hundred more than I thought I had taken).
Some of them are nice and spooky.
Some of them are pretty banal.
Actually, there's something in this one. |
But most of them look like this:
After the cemetery, we went to the stagecoach inn. It was small and rickety, and done up as a museum, trying to keep it looking as it would have when it was up and running (it was a stop for the Pony Express, and there was an amusing handbill listing the rates and times for letter delivery). It was all done up to look as it did, with roped-off areas, furniture, and photographs from the era. The most interesting thing in there was the bullethole in one of the walls from a rifle that accidentally went off and blew through to the next room (the hole continued through the hall).
At one point, Rhett was trying to get into the inn from the balcony, and the door would not open, as if something were pushing on it from behind, sort of trapping us out there. Turns out it was another ghost hunter, who didn't want us to go in where he was taking pictures. Rhett thought he was an asshole, but I wondered if I was talking too much, and that guy didn't want somebody to spoil the mood.
The park ranger was in the general store, where you could buy history books, souvenirs, and a compilation of local ghost stories. I bought some candy, because it reminded me of something I used to eat thirty years ago. We asked the ranger about the history of the place, and the kind of supernatural experiences people had had there. He said that ghost hunters had filmed there, using night vision and such, and at one point, had asked the ghost of the little girl her name, and they had recorded what sounded like her saying "Elizabeth."
Again, the dude didn't believe there was anything paranormal going on, and had never gotten so much as a bad feeling, but he didn't come out and say, "You losers make me sick. Ghosts don't frigging exist. Angels, however..."
Rhett and I went back to the schoolhouse, discovering that everyone had already gone home (traditionally, the group would reunite and show the pictures they had taken, but it was cold out, and nobody seemed to want to). It was all over, and the ranger said he would be by at nine-thirty to lock up, but I had wanted to experience something, and wasn't willing to leave, despite the cold.
A black cat kept coming around us, and I didn't find myself despising it, since it was such a friendly cat, and a sort of representation of Halloween and scariness. That in itself is a little bit unusual.
We wandered around, snapping photographs and listening for voices or Cure songs or something, and finally, I went into the dark schoolroom by myself. The lights were all off for some reason (it didn't strike me as strange until just now, since the tour was still ostensibly going on, and that was the only restroom unless you wanted to use the bushes), and after taking several pictures (which turned out so dull I shan't post them here), I simply stood there, in the dark.
I wanted to feel something. Or hear something. I spoke to the ghost aloud, asking for her to make her presence known. I asked her if her name was Elizabeth. There were some motion detectors in the corners of the ceiling, and at one point, they started to blink, even though I was completely still.
Nahh, that didn't happen either, but I expected SOMETHING to happen. My imagination provided me with some interesting What If's, but the place just didn't FEEL haunted. I never had the sensation that I wasn't wanted there, or that something was creeping up on me in the blackness, or even that I wasn't alone in the whole building.
Finally, Rhett came in to tell me he was ready to go. The park ranger arrived to lock up, turning on the lights, and then a woman and her daughters came inside, hoping they hadn't missed the ghost hunt. They had, and I could tell that the mom was way more disappointed than the kids, who were eager to . . . do whatever this generation does for fun.
The ranger closed up the school and left us there, me and Rhett, and this woman and her kids. We hung out with them outside the schoolhouse for a few minutes, and my camera finally ran out of battery. But one of the teen girls kept capturing dozens of "orbs" in her photographs. I didn't believe they were ghosts (and I still don't), but it was kind of remarkable that the girl would take a picture and Rhett would take one of the same thing, and hers would have orbs in it but his wouldn't. In fact, she could take two pictures of the same thing and one would include orbs but the next one wouldn't.
The woman kept telling us stories of her own brushes with the supernatural (for example, she had gotten a premonition that her husband was going to die, so she told him about it and he made fun of her that whole day . . . but the next day he died in a freak accident), but I was so cold by then and ready to go home.
I will add this little bit of personality so you can go on judging me: while I appreciated this stranger's enthusiasm (she just knew that every one of those floating circles in the photographs were the souls of people who had not moved on for one reason or another), I was probably more interested in her teenage daughters. It was dark, so they were hard to see, but at least one was really attractive, and I couldn't help but think of a teen Rish Outfield, going on a ghost hunt with a bunch of girls. Maybe something would happen, maybe it wouldn't. Maybe I'd get to hold one girl's hand, maybe comfort another who was spooked, maybe swap spit with the one who was just there to have a good time. The thing about being young is, there are so many possibilities ahead of you. You're learning about life, and boundaries, and experimentation, and so are they. I didn't get nearly enough of that growing up, and it's hard not to be bitter about it now.
Rhett and I talked about such things on the drive home. He had a lot more of those magical teenage nights, where hormones were raging and options were endless. I envy anybody who can look back on that time with fondness and only mild embarrassment.
I'm at work again today, and talking to other people in between writing this. I guy I sort of know here said that he too went on a ghost tour on Saturday, but his was in a bus, where they told various ghost stories of the haunted houses they drove past. That sounded pretty good to me, and he said that mine sounded better than his. Maybe we'll switch next year.
PHOTO SECTION 2
It's fun to look at the old buildings, furnishings, and decor.
This is where I spent the majority of the ghost hunt, the schoolhouse.
Heck, maybe it's spooky if you do recognize me.
My imagination conjured a human-like shape standing at the bottom of the darkened stairs. So I waited until someone walked by to get a picture of it.
It's easy to imagine a face or eyes underneath one of these old beds.
Or even better, a creepy bed and a creepy baby carriage.
So, the majority (according to the tourguide) of captured "paranormal phenomena" in photographs is what they refer to as "orbs." Like this one.

Another example is what they call "ribbons." All in all, I found two photos with ribbons in them.
I caught several stars in this picture. Except that some of them are in front of the building.
Lastly, I took a ton of pictures, and it's possible that one or two of them have something interesting in them. Apparently, by playing with the contrast and zooming in, people have spied some amazing stuff. I don't know if I really wanted photographic evidence of ghosts, to be honest. Of course, there are more terrifying possibilities than even that...
Friday, October 19, 2012
Stupid Thing of the Week
So, I was working on a TV show this week, just as an extra, playing a soldier in 1963. They had us change into our uniforms in the honey wagons (which are the restrooms that are part of trailers), and while getting into those awkward, scratchy outfits, a dude came into the mens room and took up the single unoccupied stall. He then proceeded to pour several cans of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup into the toilet.
At least that's what it sounded like.
Oh wait, that's not what I wanted to write about. Weird that I got on here and typed that. Sort of gives all blogs everywhere a bad name.
So, what I wanted to complain about was, that while I was on the set, I ran into another extra who I had seen on a couple of other film shoots. He was a dorky, depressing, gawpy, overweight, dumpy-looking, balding dude, and I became sad just looking at him. Because we had worked together before, I ended up talking to him for a while, sitting by him at lunch, and sort of feeling sorry for the hand this guy was dealt.
And then, a crewmember came up to us and said, "Hey, are you two brothers, then? You look so much alike I knew you had to be related."
Sigh.
At least that's what it sounded like.
Oh wait, that's not what I wanted to write about. Weird that I got on here and typed that. Sort of gives all blogs everywhere a bad name.
So, what I wanted to complain about was, that while I was on the set, I ran into another extra who I had seen on a couple of other film shoots. He was a dorky, depressing, gawpy, overweight, dumpy-looking, balding dude, and I became sad just looking at him. Because we had worked together before, I ended up talking to him for a while, sitting by him at lunch, and sort of feeling sorry for the hand this guy was dealt.
And then, a crewmember came up to us and said, "Hey, are you two brothers, then? You look so much alike I knew you had to be related."
Sigh.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Gonna Get A Big Head Soon
So, a few days ago, Marshal Latham repodcast my short story reading of "The Scottish Scene," a little witches' curse story I wrote that lost the Masters of the Macabre contest during the summer. Just yesterday, Hugh O'Donnell podcast my ghost story "Old Man River" on his podcast. And then today, I got an acceptance letter from an online horror magazine for my possession romp "Overtaken." It's really kind of wrong, this stuff happening to me.
The weird thing is, I submitted this story last month, and immediately got an email back saying the message was undeliverable. I figured I'd sent it to the wrong email address, so I tried it again, and got the same email, saying I could not send the message as requested. Well, I cursed and growled, and asked The Horned One to do his nasty mojo on the magazine in question . . . and then, somehow, I get an acceptance letter from 'em.* Next thing you know, I'll be getting a call from an old would-be girlfriend telling me she had a dream about me, and it made her so happy she wanted to tell me allllllll about it.
But I have been on something of a writing bender over the last couple of days. I finished my yearly "October Scary Story" on Friday, and immediately started on a new one. Then yesterday, I finished that second story at work, and started on a third today. But never fear, I later decided the second one isn't truly finished, so I could still fail miserably on that one.
Guess I should keep on keepin' on, and see if I can't get more positive out of it, since I appear to be in Bizarro Universe right now.
Fudge, I forgot to mention, I got a call today about a screenwriting project that could possibly bear fruit in the future. Weird.
Me Am Rish Outfield
*Oh, and another strange thing is, I somehow got the title of my own story wrong in my introductory paragraph, and they STILL bought it.
The weird thing is, I submitted this story last month, and immediately got an email back saying the message was undeliverable. I figured I'd sent it to the wrong email address, so I tried it again, and got the same email, saying I could not send the message as requested. Well, I cursed and growled, and asked The Horned One to do his nasty mojo on the magazine in question . . . and then, somehow, I get an acceptance letter from 'em.* Next thing you know, I'll be getting a call from an old would-be girlfriend telling me she had a dream about me, and it made her so happy she wanted to tell me allllllll about it.
But I have been on something of a writing bender over the last couple of days. I finished my yearly "October Scary Story" on Friday, and immediately started on a new one. Then yesterday, I finished that second story at work, and started on a third today. But never fear, I later decided the second one isn't truly finished, so I could still fail miserably on that one.
Guess I should keep on keepin' on, and see if I can't get more positive out of it, since I appear to be in Bizarro Universe right now.
Fudge, I forgot to mention, I got a call today about a screenwriting project that could possibly bear fruit in the future. Weird.
Me Am Rish Outfield
*Oh, and another strange thing is, I somehow got the title of my own story wrong in my introductory paragraph, and they STILL bought it.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
He Keeps On Rolling Along
I have often accused myself of always writing the same kind of stories. Who else is around to accuse me of it, after all? But one of the subjects/topics/tropes I go back to time and time again is a story where somebody tells someone else a story. Just such a tale is "Old Man River," which is being presented on the Way of the Buffalo podcast this week.
"Old Man River" is one of two stories I wrote last year with the same premise: an old man tells a young man a story about something strange that happened to him. The other ("One Last Call For Alcohol") takes place in a bar, and this one takes place in a convenience store. I purposely tried to have one old man whose motives were a pure as . . . well, I guess that awful clear goo my sister is always putting on her hands to kill germs, and the other who's got ulterior motives. That way, I could tell myself that they weren't both the same story.
They weren't, I tell you.
Anyway, Sir Hugh O'Donnell over at http://wayofthebuffalopodcast.blogspot.com/2012/10/story-old-man-river-by-rish-outfield.html has kindly taken my story and produced it in audio, read by the lovely (presumably) Dave Robison of the Round Table Podcast (I couldn't have done a better old man voice than he did). I really dug Dave's voice when I got to be interviewed on his show, and while I plan to take advantage of his vocal talents (and generous nature) soon, here's your chance to listen to his dulcet tones, and decide which old man story this one was.
Hugh also stuck some subtle music in there. A good audio production and reading always seem to elevate any story, regardless of the quality. At least that's been my experience.
Old Man Rish Outfield
"Old Man River" is one of two stories I wrote last year with the same premise: an old man tells a young man a story about something strange that happened to him. The other ("One Last Call For Alcohol") takes place in a bar, and this one takes place in a convenience store. I purposely tried to have one old man whose motives were a pure as . . . well, I guess that awful clear goo my sister is always putting on her hands to kill germs, and the other who's got ulterior motives. That way, I could tell myself that they weren't both the same story.
They weren't, I tell you.
Anyway, Sir Hugh O'Donnell over at http://wayofthebuffalopodcast.blogspot.com/2012/10/story-old-man-river-by-rish-outfield.html has kindly taken my story and produced it in audio, read by the lovely (presumably) Dave Robison of the Round Table Podcast (I couldn't have done a better old man voice than he did). I really dug Dave's voice when I got to be interviewed on his show, and while I plan to take advantage of his vocal talents (and generous nature) soon, here's your chance to listen to his dulcet tones, and decide which old man story this one was.
Hugh also stuck some subtle music in there. A good audio production and reading always seem to elevate any story, regardless of the quality. At least that's been my experience.
Old Man Rish Outfield
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