Here it is All Saints' Day, Día de los Muertos.
And here by the ocean the sky's full of leaves,
And what they can tell you depends on what you believe.
The ash is a tree, and the voices were three,
And all that is gone is here, sweeping through me. ~ Poe
I'm trying to balance work and getting ready to leave for D.C. on Thursday. This will be my first World Fantasy Con since Chicago in 1996. We're taking Amtrak. I'm starting to feel as if I live on trains. I got a new motorcycle jacket yesterday, because it was on sale, and I've decided some time ago it's time to retire the one I got in 1994. I've reached a point in my life when I just feel a little silly wearing a jacket with "Blood, Sex, Rock and Roll" emblazoned on the back, surrounding a bouquet of vampire skull and roses. It's still a fucking great motto. It just belongs on a younger back. That jacket, a gift on my thirtieth birthday, was worn a thousand nights in Athens, Georgia, in LA, Ireland, London, San Francisco, Manhattan, New Orleans, and Birmingham. I'll pack it away. I might even bother to clean out the pockets first.
I also found a used copy of Lana Del Rey's Born to Die that was cheap because the jewel case is sort of smashed. I've become sort of obsessed with her torch song/hip hop/rock and roll. If David Lynch ever made a good science fiction film (I have forgiven him for Dune), it might look and sound like Lana Del Rey.
A quiet Halloween. We played The Secret World and watched a pretty cool "horror" film, Banshee Chapter (2013), all about MK-Ultra and number stations and night in the Nevada desert. Ted Levine, who played Hank Wade in The Bridge and also Jame Gumb, was sort of magnificent as – pretty much in all but name – Hunter S. Thompson. It's streaming on Netflix.
Please have a look at the current eBay auctions and at Spooky's Etsy shop. Thank you!