Also yesterday? Hmmm. Ted sent me some preliminary sketches for "Alabaster." It's going to be another cool little chapbook, largely thanks to him. I read back over the Bookslut interview, which I think will be appearing very, very soon. But that was about it.
There was The Kindernacht Before Halloween, and that was nice. We rented Candyman, so at least one movie wouldn't suck. But we also rented something from 1986 called Breeders. Is this one even worth complaining about? I mean, I did rent it. Spooky has better sense. A bunch of naked women with startling tan lines. Terrible lighting and a complete absence of cinematography. And what was surely the very worst rubber monster suit of the last three decades. I mean, I suppose that's something. The film had two morals: Moral #1- It's better to be a slut, because virgins will get knocked up by aliens and die horribly; Moral #2 - It's better to be a straight man, because gay men go "looking for antiques" in the subterranean passages beneath Manhattan, get knocked up by aliens, and die horribly. I'm glad I know all this now. Thank you, Breeders.
Afterwards, we played BloodRayne 2 which, much to my surprise, is my new favorite XBox game. They should have just named this thing Kick the Holy Crap Out of Manson Babies and been done with it. You play a cool as dren dhampire chick who, well, kicks Manson baby butt. An endless, primping parade of pretty boys and girls present themselves for the slaughter. There's camp and cool-ass weapons and enough blood for a Yakuza film. Almost everything in the game is breakable, a big plus, and, truthfully, when Rayne feeds on one of the Manson babies, it's just frelling sexy. What more could one want? I don't think a video game has ever given me that...special feeling before. So, yes, BloodRayne 2 is good.
Wherever you are, hope you're having a good weekend. Do some spooky shit. Over indulge (isn't that an oxymoron?). Stand in awe at the death of summer and the coming of winter. Have some goddamn candy corn. Hug a monster. Try something harder than beer or whiskey. Get trashed in a cemetery. Don't forget the sex. Make a pumpkin smile. We're all dead, anyway.
All dressed up with nowhere to go
Walkin' with a dead man
Waitin' for an invitation to arrive
With a dead man . . . dead man . . .
Got my best suit and my tie
Shiny silver dollar on either eye
I hear the chauffeur comin' to my door
He says there's room for maybe just one more . . .