Monday, September 30, 2013

Directing the Dead

I choose to refer to Ray Crawford as an undertaker; it has to it, a certain je ne sais quoi that can only be matched by the personality of the individual that chooses it as a profession.   
  He calls himself a funeral director, which I find a tad overzealous seeing as though his clients aren’t particularly ‘directable’; nor are they notably opposed to his choreography for their big debut in that pine-box of a stage. However, it appeases my mind to imagine him down there in his workshop, stringing up the dead like marionettes and skillfully painting their faces with a squirrel-haired Bob Ross brush...all the while spouting off good-humored and unreciprocated Bob Ross banter. 

You make sure you bury the next one deep Ray, but not so deep that the Lord can’t find him.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Halloween Head.

Hey kid, I like your moxie.

via HelloZombie

Sunday Night Cinema: The Story of a Murderer.

I forgot that I own this movie...and how much I love it.

This guy plays a fantastic creep.

click Jean-Baptiste



 I have never found a companion as companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men, than when we stay in our chambers.  A man who is thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will...  

- Henry David Thoreau

Friday, September 27, 2013

What mental torture looks like...

A letter from schizophrenic Emma Hauck to her husband.

It consists of only phrase "Herzensschatzi komm" (Sweetheart please come) and "komm komm komm" (come, come, come ) repeated over and over.

I Got a Name.

If I ever make a movie, there will be a murderous rampage set to this song.
I don't know why...but it just feels right.

click Patrick.

  I guess for now, I'll just listen to it on repeat and think murderous thoughts.

Pinky out.

via thegreatdepression

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Zombie Feeder

That Chickadee has no idea how ruthless it looks.

I also think it would be funny to tape a picture of a friend/family member/loved ones face over the zombies face, invite the friend/family member/loved one over...then casually take them outside...

I'd probably add some meat know, so the vultures come.


In the world of the dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude. But with action came anxiety, and the sense of insuperable effort made to match the dream, and with it came weariness, discouragement, and the flight into solitude again. And then in solitude, in the opium den of remembrance, the possibility of pleasure again. 
 -Anais Nin 

image found here

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Monday, September 16, 2013

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Speak of the Devil.

My heart's made of parts of all that surrounds me
And that's why the Devil just can't get around me
                                                         -Fiona Apple, 'Every Single Night' 

image found here.

Why, oh why...

Do things like this no longer happen.

1940s National Biscuit Co. Halloween Spiced Wafer Box and Canco Halloween tin.

I want to reside in that little house back there.

image found here.

Where Halloween masks go to die.

I was at a flea market a few weeks ago and I spotted a Frankenstein mask very similar to the one pictured here.  When I went over to investigate, I found several others...a witch, devil, gorilla, and so on. Most of them were on the floor, in the dirt, behind a big, elaborate case.  I knocked over a few priceless antiques and made my way to them...they were all dirty,  stapled together and cracked in several places. I thought about rescuing them for posterity sake, they obviously weren't where they should be.  But I flipped over their little price-tags...only to discover that I'm pretty sure the keepers of the shop knew what they had...they just didn't care. Meanwhile, in that big elaborate case, locked up from Halloween scoundrels, was a string of vintage Christmas lights...from the 50's...still in their original box...with a little handwritten sign that read 'fragile'.

Christmas:  for assholes.

image found here.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Autumn Harvest

From the 1964 edition of the book Autumn Harvest, by Alvin Tresselt, illustrated by the great Roger Duvoisin. Copyright 1951.

Houses at Night

I adore the work of Todd Hido.

This photo reminds me of cool Autumn nights in Durbin, West Virginia...walking through those desolate streets and passing the lonely houses in a town that once was...

Oh, hello...

Mossy terracotta jack-o-latern that I would have to sell a kidney to purchase.

From At West End

As if in a dream...

More images here

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Soliloquy Of The Solipsist

Image found here.
I walk alone;
The midnight street
Spins itself from under my feet;
When my eyes shut
These dreaming houses all snuff out;
Through a whim of mine
Over gables the moon's celestial onion
Hangs high.

Make houses shrink
And trees diminish
By going far; my look's leash
Dangles the puppet-people
Who, unaware how they dwindle,
Laugh, kiss, get drunk,
Nor guess that if I choose to blink
They die.

When in good humor,
Give grass its green
Blazon sky blue, and endow the sun
With gold;
Yet, in my wintriest moods, I hold
Absolute power
To boycott any color and forbid any flower
To be.

Know you appear
Vivid at my side,
Denying you sprang out of my head,
Claiming you feel
Love fiery enough to prove flesh real,
Though it's quite clear
All your beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,
From me.

© Sylvia Plath.

Strange things are good.

Image found here.