Nobody knows…. How Dry I Am… (sing if you know it!)

I don’t drink.

Now, to answer the questions I’m most often asked, from the start:

No, I’m not a recovering alcoholic… no, I’m not Mormon, or otherwise religious in any way… and no, I’m not allergic to it.

I just don’t drink. In fact, I’ve *never* been drunk.

Whenever someone asks me, “Why?”… I usually say something like, “It’s just something I never got into”, and leave it at that. Admittedly, this isn’t much of an answer. Almost sounds like I never had the access to alcohol, or was never in a situation where it was available, and just grew up feeling that’s the norm.

Oh please… I’m not, nor ever have been, THAT sheltered. I did not spend my childhood in a Sense-Dep Tank… and while my High School socialization may have been limited, it wasn’t like I didn’t have a clue where to find alcohol. Access and opportunity were not lacking in my world.

There are several reasons why I don’t drink… though if I had to pick ONE as the root of it all… the answer is simple; My dad.

Now, my dad is not an alcoholic… as one might think when I mention him as a reason. No, he never let the bottle affect work, or the normal day-to-day functioning of his life… he was just a blue-collar shmoe that liked his beer, like most people. He’d have one, maybe two in the evening after work… and when he had a day off, he’d have… more than that. If you look at all the instances or him pissing me off, upsetting me, or (when I was young) flat-out scaring me and making me feel horrible and stupid… let’s just say it’s no coincidence that those stories almost invariably begin with the words, “Dad had a few too many beers that day…”

Combine that with an already short temper, a wavering idea of personal space, and a stubbornness that borders on self-delusion… No, he’s not an alcoholic… just a complete obnoxious asshole when he *is* drunk.

Some people fall into similar patterns of libation-consumption that they witnessed growing up… Some people rebel, and go the opposite way… only to eventually end up in those same patterns… some learn actual moderation and end those patterns in a responsible way. Me: I just rebelled 100%, and never stopped.

Now a lot of people have looked at my personality and lovingly tell me I’d be a “happy drunk”, and how I most likely wouldn’t be an asshole. But you know… after years of the kind of aforementioned stories, and hearing some of the most horrible, hateful, insulting things spoken (or “yelled” would be more accurate) while under that influence… I really don’t think that’s something I care to even take a chance on. Nah, I’m all set on that.

Even on a practical level… I hate the taste. We can also attribute that to my dad. When I was a little kid, Dad would let my brothers and I have little sips of his beer. For me, I would then go about a year or so before I thought “I forgot what that tastes likes”, and ask Dad for another sip, which he’d oblige. THEN I’d remember why I went a year plus without trying it. Henceforth, it always confused me when people told me how beer was an “acquired taste”… because if you put something disgusting in your mouth… what on earth would give you the bright idea to do it AGAIN??? Jeez… little babies figure this stuff out.

Though what may be a missing piece in that story is the *brand* of beer my Dad drinks. Apparently, my “hate-the-taste” position makes sense to some people when they hear it, as it seems that brand is universally referred to as the “rat-piss” of the beer drinking world. I probably shouldn’t mention the name… but I will say that it rhymes with “Shmold Shmilwaukee”. (And if that’s a proud export of Wisconsin… they should stick to the cheese.)

Now, I’d be lying if I said I’ve NEVER had a drink (since being legal). My first one was a “Suffering Bastard”. I specifically wanted that to be my first… solely because of the name. (It seemed like it fit.) I finished maybe a quarter of it… IF that. Another time, I had a Zombie. Again… for the name (Cause zombies are cool), and still only finished a fraction of it.

I did try wine a few times… and wine was actually something I would have liked to know more about. It just seems like a very “James Bond” kind of thing to know… the years of vintage, the regions it comes from, and how to accompany it with crackers and cheese to help bring out the subtlety of the flavors. You’re not even supposed to get drunk on wine, it’s supposed to be a sipping/tasting experience. If you want to get drunk, you drink whiskey or vodka or something of that ilk… not wine. If you’re drinking wine with the intention of getting drunk… I think you’re doing something wrong. Wine is about the actual flavor… of which the few times I tried, I didn’t really like. I was given half a glass one time, and I nursed it for about 3 hours… and by that point, I’d only finished maybe a quarter of what was poured (so not even 1/8 of a glass). I wasn’t so much “drinking” it… as I was “letting it evaporate.”

I think the taste of the alcohol itself is just kind of repulsive to me. And since I’m not used to the taste of it… when it does exist in my glass, it’s pretty obvious. I’ve taken a drink of punch before, to find it had been spiked. I then found out it was *very lightly* spiked, and that no one else had been able to taste it… but I did. *shrug* I’ve been told several times that I “just need to find something I’d like”… and I’ve had many offers to “help” me with that. I don’t know… maybe there IS something out there I’d like. But I don’t think I have any interest in finding it. (And if you want to “help”… Worse have tried… and Better have failed.)

Even though, I seem to find a lot of disadvantages to not drinking. That seems like an odd statement, I know. Most people can immediately think of several reasons why it’s good to NOT drink (even though they are drinking themselves)… “It’s healthier”, “saves a lot of money”, “you’ll never do anything you regret”, blah blah blah.

Yeah, that’s what they SAY. But I think the subconscious says something different.

Alcohol is very much a social lubricant. It lowers inhibitions and gets strangers talking, opening up a myriad of possibilities both bad and good. We walk around with our guard up all day, and to relax we want to let that guard down… and most people don’t consider the bad possibilities 100% of the time (otherwise, they’d NEVER let their guard down). Always keeping your wits about you… can be hard work and stressful on its own, so who wants to constantly worry about that? It’s nice to feel you can let that responsibility go… which alcohol can do, artificially.

Me… I’ve always got that guard up. Now, from my point of view… it’s a little tough having an intelligent conversation with someone who’s visibly inebriated. For them, I can only imagine what they’d be thinking… anything from “What a stick-in-the-mud, he’s no fun” to “I’m vulnerable and he’s not… oh my, this is uncomfortable” to “I’m engaging in a horrible vice and therefore, he must think he’s so much better than me, the bastard”, etc. Sure, they “say” it’s good I don’t drink… but they talk more/flirt more/get-to-know the other people that ARE drinking. (I *do* meet people who drink that are 100% a-okay with it and really don’t care that I’m a teetotaler... but it’s rarer than you think.)

In all honesty… I don’t care if other people drink. My “no drinking” policy is only for me and me alone. I hold NO one else to those standards. I think some of my past relationships felt a little awkward with it… being in a situation where they wanted to have a drink, but knowing that I wasn’t. Whether they felt pressured by my presence to not drink, or didn’t want to “leave me out”, I don’t know. But I want my friends to have a good time… and if that entails knocking back a few… go for it. I will never tell someone they *shouldn’t* do that. It’s our inalienable right to do whatever you want to yourself… that’s the beauty of America. If you’re my friend… especially if I’m dating you… then I’m accepting flaws, vices and all. If I’m THAT opposed to something you practice/engage in… I’ll leave or just won’t get involved in the first place. (In which case it really is an honest-to-goodness “it’s not you, it’s me” situation. I don’t like the idea of asking anybody to change for me… as I don’t think I have the right.)

Yeah, there are times I do feel a little “left out”. I wonder if it would be nice to get vulnerable like that. Hell, maybe I’d have had a lot more sex in life if I did… (but I think I’d rather have sex that I *remember*… and not have to regret later)

I think it’s a trade-off.

I’ll gladly be the designated driver. Sure, maybe I’ll be a bit bored while sitting around and people-watching drunk strangers… but if I know my friends are having a good time, that’s okay by me. As long as I have my wits about me… as long as I have control over myself, I have control over the situation. There are a lot of bad possibilities that *can* happen. At least I can make sure that those things don’t happen to my friends. If you get drunk-sick, I’ll hold your head over the toilet… and when you have the hangover, I’ll bring you the vitamin B and water.

Call it another part of my inner Superhero complex. If you’re with me… you’re getting home safe… I guarantee it.

I’ve seen some people at their absolute worst while drunk… alcohol combined with medication (or even alcohol withOUT medication that they should have been on), borderline alcohol poisoning, falling off the wagon, getting violent and even acting downright stalkerish while under the influence.

I’ve also seen people become scared for their own safety, and the safety of those they love… deathly afraid that they are going to be hurt or scarred forever from someone who was drunk and not in control of themselves. I’ve seen too many tears and have heard of far too many stories of good friends turned into victims and statistics.

Since there’s almost nothing that pisses me off more than that, I say this with as much passion, rage and utmost seriousness that I can muster:

THAT WILL **NOT** HAPPEN ON MY WATCH!

(God help whoever tries to F**K with me on this one.)

Oh, the Horror!!

I love Horror movies. Always have. I honestly don’t know where this love comes from, as I hate real-life violence. I can’t stand needles, don’t like the sight of blood, and pain hurts me.

But sitting me in front of a horror film… I’ll be a happy camper. I like the adrenaline rush, the “what would I do in that situation” after-thinking, and I love watching it with a date that gets scared. I don’t mean that in a sadistic-I-like-people-to-suffer-in-fear kind of way. It’s actually a more practical reason. When a lovely young lady is scared in a movie theatre, ideally, she grabs onto your arm, squeezes up against you, and buries into your shoulder… coming to YOU for protection. In a testosterone kind of way, that’s a neat feeling… being a protector. She wants to cuddle up to me? I see that as a win-win situation… and I wish it happened more often. A good horror movie can do that.

Even though… well, face it. Most of the horror films and stories out there… suck. Majorly. There’s some wonderful diamonds in the rough… but strictly speaking… putting something in the “horror genre”, usually means you’re in for horrible effects, bad story, abysmal script, and embarrassing acting.

Yet, in the entertainment industry… Horror is a near-guaranteed moneymaker. The general consensus seems to be that its got an automatic built-in fan base, and as long as you put “Boobs and Blood” in a movie… it will sell. Personally, I think that’s half-right.

Sure, there’s a built-in fan base. I’m one of them. But it does take more than “Boobs and Blood” to make a good horror movie. Then again, those that are putting in the boobs and blood… aren’t exactly going for “good” in their pictures. Rather, they’re just going for something that will sell. Sadly, we keep buying. To be honest, when I was 13, I loved the whole “Boobs and Blood” thing… if you were a young boy just entering puberty, you would too.

But I’m about 20 years beyond that now… and I like to think my tastes are a little more discriminating.

For one… I hate nudity in films. ANY kind of film. Not because I’ve gone conservative, far from it. I always have been and always will be a big fan of the female form, in all its variations. If I’m in the mood to see nudity? There are plenty of films made for an audience old enough to rent them from the back room (or hell, just find it on the Internet for free). As a bonus, they don’t even TRY to have a plot to bog it down, and they show more naked body than any horror film would be allowed to. Or if I’m dating someone… I can see it in person (which is even better). If I want it… I can find it. Don’t bother going out of your way to throw it into a horror film. Most of the time… the filmmakers seem to be going out of their way to throw it in.

If it doesn’t make sense to the story… I don’t want to see it. I’m giving anywhere from an hour and a half to three hours (on rare occasion, more) to get involved in a movie’s story. Don’t bog it down with useless crap. Get on with it… and don’t say you’re “slowing it down a bit” so people can catch up. I don’t think people are that stupid. Treat them as if they’re intelligent, and they’ll like you more. This also applies to love scenes… rarely have I seen one that actually makes sense to the plot and story. Frankly, if I’m being chased by Werewolf-Zombie-Vampire hybrids, the last thing I’m doing is getting an erection… no matter how attractive my leading lady is. No, I’d need a few days and some therapy before I even think about that. But that’s just me…

So take out the sex/nudity, please. You should only keep it in if it makes sense to the plot and, more importantly, *drives the story forward*. If it doesn’t directly push you into the next scene, why is it in there? Take it out and make the movie a few minutes shorter. I’d much prefer that, as it lets me get on with my life. And if you do find a reason for a character to be nude? Think about something first: Does it really need to be *shown*? If you’re looking to be a little “sexy” with the scene, or show a little sensuality to the character… its usually more effective when you *don’t* see everything. Implication holds so much power in these instances. I don’t care how much of an “artistic statement” you think you’re making with it… it can be done without showing every nipple… and will often times be more effective for that. Every movie scene that I’ve heard be defended by a director saying it’s “vitally important” to the story… really hasn’t been. And every actress in those scenes that was agreeing with the director… “Really, it was artistically important for me to give him a real BJ on camera”… I just want to pull them aside and gently say, “Darlin, you’ve been conned.”

As for blood and gore… well, if you ask my Mom, she’d tell you that’s what I live for. She seems to think that if I’m watching a horror movie, I must *obviously* be loving it for that very reason. On the contrary… I respect and prefer the horror films that don’t use a lot of blood and gore, or use it very sparingly. If you spend an hour of a film effectively building up the tension and story, when you finally DO show a little bit of blood, it becomes so much more effective.

When I watched the first Saw movie, I was impressed and pleased to see that it wasn’t as gory as the reputation made me believe. It actually had a decent story, and was effectively done. Sure, there were some extreme parts… but I think it could have been a LOT more visceral than it was. I applaud the filmmakers for that. In fact, whenever I look at one of the big franchises… and actually watch the very first one, I’m often surprised to see it’s not as extreme with its blood effects as the sequels. Rather, they all rest on a pretty unique idea (especially for the time it was made), and do it pretty well. It just seems that any sequels automatically lose that novelty, simply by rehashing it with “bigger and more” opportunities for the squeamish to cringe.

Take A Nightmare on Elm Street. The sequels are VERY silly. Mostly because Robert Englund is majorly hamming it up with puns and over-the-top silliness. Granted, the scripts are nothing to shake a stick at. But each killing he performs tries to go too far out-of-the-way to be a unique and imaginative one, and ends up being a little too silly. Watching that schtick makes it easy to forget that the very first movie… was actually really unsettling. Essentially, he was just jumping out and saying “Boo”, then killing in a straightforward manner… it was the unique places he was jumping *out of*, that made it different and ultra-creepy. Plus, you never saw him clearly and well-lit. The sequels, you saw every little scar and ripple on his skin, every burn mark on his sweater. The original… you rarely saw it. He either was obscured by the dark, or moving too fast to be seen. The silhouette of him became much scarier than any gross make-up that would be put on him… because when you have to imagine it… when your mind is forced to fill in the blanks that you’re not seeing… that’s what makes people’s hair stand on end.

The old classic movies really knew this. Granted, the ratings board and system was very particular about what they’d let people get away with… and it wasn’t much. But when you look at the classics… Dracula, all the Frankenstein movies, The Wolf Man, The Mummy… the filmmakers managed to do quite a lot with very little. One of my all-time favorite movies is The Haunting… the original B&W one from the early 1960s. It has no blood, no flashy special effects… just atmosphere and story all the way through. It’s freaking brilliant. (Please, avoid the remake at all costs)

Yet, I think if I were to pick a point where Horror started to go wrong… it would be at the tail-end of the period where those Universal Classics were made. After a while, they started mixing and matching. Sounds like a good idea on paper… Wolf Man was popular… Frankenstein was popular… let’s put them together and be TWICE as popular! Let’s add in Dracula, too! Hollywood Gold!

That idea may have worked for Chocolate and Peanut Butter… not so much in this case. I don’t think the Monster-Mash movies ever really worked, frankly. Sure, I love The Monster Squad… but when it comes down to it, the idea behind it doesn’t exactly mesh. (That movie in particular isn’t a horror, it’s a kid’s adventure movie. A supernatural version of The Goonies) Mainly because of the Frankenstein Monster, and Dracula. You see, a major part of the story and existence of Dracula owes itself to the notion that “God exists”. Crosses repel him, Holy Water hurts him, etc… so for that to actually make sense, it must serve as concrete proof that God does indeed exist. No problem, right? Well… then you add in the Frankenstein Monster… whose very existence is concrete proof that God does NOT exist. Which was the point of the story. (If only God can create life, the fact that a scientist created life himself invalidates the notion of God… therefore, there is nothing man is not meant to know, and he is answerable to no one but himself, with no ill consequences when we’re gone. Essentially… it’s the fear of “No Hell”) One is solid proof of God existing, the other is solid proof of God NOT existing. In either story, we’ll go along with it… that’s our suspension of disbelief (no matter what religion you are). But mashing the conflicting arguments, and saying that both are absolute fact… doesn’t make sense. And as an audience, we’re lost. We can’t be scared in that instance, because subconsciously, we’re too confused. At best, the Monster Mash movies are more “adventure-thrill-rides” than actual horror movies. Excuses for neat special effects and some referential in-jokes.

That’s a reflection on the nature of Horror as a whole… where a lot of movies and stories seem to go wrong, I think. They don’t play to the metaphor. In too many ways, we’ve lost the meaning to many of the classic monsters and fears.

One of my biggest annoyances in horror concerns Vampires. Too often I’ll hear interviews about a Vampire Movie where the actors or the directors talk about how “Vampires have always been metaphors for Sex”.

I want to track them down, tie them to chairs and beat them severely about the head and shoulders screaming why they are certifiably WRONG in that. Vampires have not “always been about Sex”. If anything, Sex was only briefly introduced just over 100 years ago, and only gained real prominence in the last 25 years.

Look at what we call a “Zombie”… a walking corpse trying to eat people. (Technically, that’s not a Zombie. A zombie is a Voodoo slave… and not even really dead.) But 1,000 years ago… that image was what they called a Vampire. This was due to a little thing called The Black Plague. It rotted your skin, made you pale, deathly-looking, and when you were kicked out of your town because you were going to infect everyone else, you shambled over the countryside, trying to get help. To others, you’re a disgusting-looking monster trying to eat them. Hence, the origin of “Wampyre”. Now, this directly ties into the age-old methods of Vampire dissuasion… Garlic is healthy for you; An old home remedy for curing sickness and “whatever ails ye”. If something medically mystified people back then, they turned to their local priest, who brought in God to cast away the evil demonic sickness… hence, crosses and holy water and most anything connected to God, are now vampire-fighting weapons.

Vampires are metaphors for Disease. That’s how they are ingrained into our subconscious. Look at some of the vampire literature from the Victorian era… where it started to really bloom. People want to make Dracula into the “definitive sexual example” of vampire fiction. Now, I love that book… I won’t argue its greatness. And yes, there are sexual ELEMENTS… but you also need to look at them in context. In 1898, in England at the time (where the book was written), there was an outbreak of syphilis. It was considered to be on an epidemic proportion. Syphilis… can be spread sexually. So now the images of rape and (very heterosexual) intercourse are a bit on the obvious side. Again… a symptom, not the origin. One of the side-effects of Syphilis? Insanity: Renfield is in an insane asylum, not to mention Jonathan Harker feeling like he’s going insane and trapped in Dracula’s Castle. Look at the symptoms of syphilis, and the events of the book… you might realize a whole other angle you’ve never seen before. Especially when you see that Dracula is moving around in the daylight, and other normal vampire stereotypes aren’t exactly fitting to the book. Those were all elements that Hollywood inserted in… often just “making them up”.

Side note: H.P. Lovecraft… long considered one of the greatest horror writers of all time, suffered from syphilis. Most, if not all, of his stories deal with extreme insanity and his characters are always going crazy. Cause he himself was.

There is a slightly earlier vampire tale, by Sheridan Le Fanu, called Carmilla. Some have pointed to that as being “obviously” a metaphor for sex. The story of a young female vampire seducing a young girl. Plenty of lesbianism to go around… eat that, blog boy! Not quite. Yes, the homosexuality is abundant… but remember that it was written during a time where homosexuality was considered a *disease*… and a curable one at that. Sorry to spoil it… but it’s got a happy ending, with the vampire being vanquished, and the young heroine surviving, and going on to lead a normal life, evermore.

Fast forward to the early 1970s… to Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles. Written in 1973, published in 1976. Right around that time, in the medical community, a little something was starting to pop up. Wouldn’t be given full publicity until the late 70s, early 80s… but groups of people were already starting to be affected. This little something would eventually be called HIV/AIDS. And the largest demographic group being affected? Gay men… especially in the San Francisco area, the largest hub of Gay Culture imaginable… where Anne Rice was living and writing her books. “Gee, I wonder why there’s so much Homoeroticism in these stories… Hmmmm?” She has even said that the character Claudia is based on her daughter who died of leukemia in 1972. Again.. disease.

1987… Near Dark, the first “southwestern Vampire movie” (before it became a trend). The Vampires are shown as people “from the wrong side of the tracks”, the kind of people that are often considered “a disease on society”. That one, is a very neat twist… and works wonderfully.

Disease. Do I need a pie chart to make it clearer?

Werewolves are also metaphors for disease… but in a different way from Vampires. Vampires are physical diseases. The common “condition” associated with Werewolves is “Lycanthropy”. And Lycanthropy IS an actual medical disease. It’s not a person who turns into a wolf… it’s someone who THINKS they’re turning into a wolf. It’s a mental disease. One of the earliest illustrated depictions of a “werewolf” is of a farmer who “turned into a wolf and ate his children” while his shocked wife looked on. But the man… doesn’t have a snout or tail. If you look closely, he’s just on all fours, with an overgrowth of hair and beard, with his kid in his mouth, chomping away. Definitely not normal… but look at the circumstances. This was from back in the day where a large portion of the world was not civilized. This depiction is just a farmer out in the middle of nowhere… probably only makes the long slow trip into a village maybe once every 4 months, and his only company is his wife and very small children. The guy just went stir crazy… he was seeing the SAME people every day, cooped up… effectively cut off from civilization. It’s called Cabin Fever… and some people do just snap and kill their families. Sometimes, they just lose it, and think they themselves are wolves (one of the animals they were seeing on a frequent basis, and fighting off)… hence, the mental disease of Lycanthropy.

An American Werewolf in London… in my humble opinion, the best werewolf movie there is, puts a lot of focus on the main character’s feelings of going crazy. His dream sequences, which truly are maddening, are the scariest parts of that movie. Even the classic Universal picture The Wolf Man spends a large part having Lon Chaney Jr. say, “I’m going crazy! I’m mad, I tell you!” Dog Soldiers, deals with special ops soldiers fighting off werewolves. Makes for great action… and gives you a nice appreciation when you think of the condition “Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder” or “Shell Shock”, which you see these characters are definitely going to have when they’re through… if they survive, that is.

The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde… its metaphor? Alcoholism. That one may be hard to see at first. But notice how Dr. Jekyll drinks his “formula” and becomes a different person? Yet, he feels he can control it? So, he keeps drinking the formula, becoming Mr. Hyde… then soon, he needs the formula to STOP from becoming Mr. Hyde, that’s when he realizes he’s in deep doo doo. Bring that basic explanation to any AA meeting, and I’m willing to bet you get a lot of knowing nods.

Godzilla… the original movie was a Japanese Horror film. His metaphor? He’s the walking embodiment of nuclear terror. From a country that was still recovering from having Fat Man and Little Boy dropped on them, causing mindless destruction in its wake. So that movie freaked the living hell out of them. Can you blame them?

We’re missing the metaphors these days. Too many movies and books are churned out without giving us those hooks that really connect us to it… and that’s what really scares us.

A few years ago, I picked up a book… a Vampire book. It looked interesting, it had won the “Bram Stoker” award the previous year, and had a lot of praise written on the back. So I got it, and read it. That book… was the biggest pile of SHIT that I’ve ever read in my life. Narrative-wise… it was atrocious. The very beginning and the very end of the book were one plot… which the entire middle had NOTHING to do with. I only fought my way to the end of the book, hoping to the Almighty that it would redeem itself with a great ending. Nope. If anything, the ending was the worst part. Some interviews praised it for its “honest sexuality”… so an elderly man’s fantasy about a pubescent-girl’s body is “honest”??? I seriously thought the guy was rubbing one out while he was at the typewriter. I don’t call that “honest sexuality”… I call it pathetic masturbation fantasies. Useless references to incest (added nothing to nowhere)… introducing “major characters” 4/5 of the way through the book… casually doing away with the creepiest villains of the story with nothing more than a “oh, I killed them” side note… languishing too long on the uninteresting parts… and all-too-quickly-glossing-over of what would have been the most interesting parts. I hate that book and author with the fury of a thousand suns… and no longer have any faith in the “Bram Stoker Award”, because they apparently give it out to utter crap. When I found out that this was one of the author’s last books, and he had died about a year earlier… I felt bad… because now I couldn’t personally lambaste him for being the worst hack I’ve ever read. I really hope that guy didn’t die of natural causes. I won’t even honor it enough to mention its name on this blog. My blood is actually boiling, and I read this several years ago.

I really hope that’s not what the world of Horror is heading towards. I’ve heard a lot of complaints about the current “Torture Porn”… and frankly… You’re preaching to the choir.

While I did enjoy the first Saw… it was novel and different. Anything after that… is old hat. So, I don’t even need to see the movies whose only selling point is the extreme violence. That’s not a story. (Same reason I didn’t see The Passion of the Christ… I already knew the story, and the violence isn’t an attraction, so why bother?) The gore IS the story, not a tool for the story. Now, I could be wrong on that… maybe there are very intelligent metaphors that inspired those stories, I don’t know. Honestly… I haven’t watched them. But when the focus by the media and filmmakers is all about “look at the gross stuff we can do”… I have no interest to even look for a good metaphor. Gross-out stuff will only disgust me, but it won’t actually *scare* me.

I wanna be scared.

I’ve only been scared by one movie. I’ve jumped at a few, but only one that actually crawled under my skin and really frightened me: The Blair Witch Project.

It was the last movie I saw right before I moved to California…. I saw it with my best friend. The entire theatre was packed with young folk aged 16-19… the age group that you’d definitely consider to be the rowdiest, loudest and most obnoxious theatergoers of all.

The place was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Love Blair Witch or hate it… most people hit one of those extremes… it was definitely original. It’s worth seeing it for the marketing campaign alone… And that experience of seeing it was one of the most unique ones I’ve ever had in a theatre.

Why did it scare ME so much? Possibly because all the stupid crap those characters were doing: Finding old graveyards, exploring old condemned houses in the dark, etc… My friends and I have actually DONE that crap ourselves. I have seen an abandoned house in northern New Hampshire… that has black handprints on the walls. (No, it wasn’t the same house in the movie) Once the movie finished, I turned to my best friend and said, “You know… in retrospect, maybe we shouldn’t have done all that creepy, stupid shit through college”. She said, “yup”… and neither of us slept that night.

I think Horror can get better. For all the crap out there… we do find some really good stuff every now and then. Once in a while, a new classic will be born… one that really hits us where it counts, and makes us scared again… and then 1,001 bad knockoffs will instantly be born.

Which is probably the scariest thing about it. *shrug*

Advice From a Homicidal Maniac...

I’m feeling Lost.

That’s really the only word I can think of for this feeling. I know where I am, I know what I want to do and where I want to be, and continually taking little steps to get there. (I’d take larger steps… but its hard to do that with your pants around your ankles. Metaphorically speaking, of course.)

Yet, despite this self-awareness of my situation, I’m feeling Lost.

It’s no secret that the last 2 years have been tough for me. (If I’m trying to keep it secret, I’m doing a bad job.) After my last lousy year in Los Angeles, I came back East… and the past year hasn’t been that much better.

For one… I’m living with my parents. Oh dear Jeebus, I’m a stereotype… a 32-year old man living in my parents’ basement. *shudder* At least I have friends that are kind to point out that I was living on my own for 10 years. (Yeah, I made it to the double-digits. Before either of my older brothers, too. A fact I was kind of proud of.) And before I left, some friends I knew who were from Europe said it was “No big deal. In Europe, everyone lives with their parents until their 30s or even 40s… usually only moving out when you’re married, but not always.” (Oh man, the thought of living with them even when I’m married? Uh… no thank you. Either way, it didn’t really make me feel better.)

Yet, I knew that was going to be the case when I decided to move back. And I accepted it as a “necessary sacrifice” for my Plan. Yes, I had a plan. I refused to swallow my pride and come back without one. Because I was in L.A. for a reason… I’m a storyteller. And I want to tell stories. I’m a writer and an actor, and I don’t feel productive unless I’m creating or presenting. But throughout my time there… I never got noticed. I did several plays, got great reviews from all, compliments up the wazoo… but ultimately nothing. Even the last film project I did there (I even had the title character) has, to my knowledge, NOT seen the light of day… and I actually hope it doesn’t. Not that it was completely dissuading me. Hell, I knew it was going to be a long, tough battle, and I was feeling resilient. That is, until the OTHER reasons I left L.A. came to the forefront… well, it just kind of became the “Anvil-That-Broke-The-Camel’s-Back”. I just came to the conclusion that I needed a “break”.

So, I decided to return to my roots… back near all my family… and make my own stinkin movie.

Yeah, I decided to thumb my nose at the System. (Not that the System would get the insult… face it, the actual “thumbing your nose” cut-down kind of went out of style in Shakespeare’s time. Nowadays, if you try it, people think you’re just picking your nose in public.) I was feeling a bit inspired by Robert Rodriguez (based in Texas), George Romero (based in Pennsylvania), and others that don’t need Hollywood to make their movies. I was particularly inspired by the movie “28 Days Later”… a high-octane zombie movie, made with a Mini-DV camera that cost peanuts (relatively speaking)… and a festival winning Time-Travel movie called “Primer”… made for $7,000. Yeah, for the price of a used car… a guy made a movie… and a GOOD one. Its things like that which really inspire you and make you realize, “Hey… this CAN be done.”

I figured, the best way to show that my writing CAN work (as Hollywood is very effective at keeping out new writers), is to actually SHOW it working on film. And the best option to be able to make it… lay back on the East Coast. With the high cost of living, California was not exactly conducive to saving money. Not to mention that many of the story ideas I was having (mostly for scary movies) were all set in geographic areas “like New England”. Face it, there’s a good reason that Stephen King and H.P. Lovecraft set most, if not all, of their stories there. So rather than try to find a half-assed location in So-Cal… it would look better to actually BE and FILM in New England.

So, even though I never set out to be a director… I decided to do it. That was my plan. Well, it was the goal of it, I should say. The actual plan was a bit of a loose one. I was going to get a decent paying job (I was told the market back here was much better, with higher pay)… save up money. Get down the debts, and save for the money and film, while writing a script that is good, and can be done within the resources of myself and friends. And by the time I got to one year after returning I had hoped we could be filming. Well… actually, I was shooting for the Spring of 08… I’m not filming in the freaking cold.

For a good while… it was working. When I finally found something decent paying (through a temp agency), I was socking away a good amount of money. Every week, I put away a portion of my paycheck aside… and that started to build fairly quickly. By early July, I had gotten to just over half of what I needed. My mental time-table was working out nicely… that’s where I hoped to be at that time.

THEN… my car wouldn’t start one day. I took it in to be looked at. Never a good sign, right? Well, in this case, they only needed to replace ONE thing to fix it.

The Engine.

Replacing the engine (a more affordable option than getting a new car outright) took almost EXACTLY the amount of money I had saved up to that point for my camera. I guess I could be thankful that I *had* the money handy to be able to get my car back… because I needed one to get to work… But I couldn’t help feeling a little depressed all the same.

So I went back to square one. Undaunted, I continued. DETERMINED to film come Spring. Every week, putting aside some money (a little more than before to try and catch up)… until I got back to over the half-way point in October. And THEN… the place I was working at (a company in Burlington, Massachusetts that makes medical equipment) has to get rid of all their “contract employees” at the end of the month. Of which, *I* was the last one. I liked working there, everyone was really nice, and they seemed to like me… but the higher ups wanted to pinch pennies at the end of the year. So, I had to go. I was back on the market. No problem, right? Just tell the Temp Agency, and with my record and rave reviews (hell, I made “Temp Employee of the Month” on my FIRST month with them…. I got a mug), something should come soon, right? Well, it did take a few weeks… with the holidays coming, the demand for Temp Employment went down. The only thing I got was a 2 ½ week gig at a Marketing Research company at a neighboring town. (Well, at least the commute was shorter)

2 of us were brought in. One of the clients of this company was having a big trade show and they needed the potential customers (or “leads”) entered into the big fancy database. I was selected for it because I had experience with their big fancy database… the same kind of big fancy database that I worked with in Burlington. This would just be time-consuming, non-difficult work… I didn’t see a problem. So, they were happy to have me there. The other guy seemed intelligent enough… a decent sort of fellow. We were told the whole job would take about 2 ½ weeks with 2 of us working.

When I went in on the third day… I noticed the other guy wasn’t there. I casually enquired as to where he was and was simply told he “wasn’t going to be coming back.” I didn’t push for answers, figured it wasn’t my place. Well… wasn’t my place to get answers from THAT person. I called the agency at lunch… now I didn’t know if the guy just said, “I quit this bitch” or he made a pass at the Boss’s husband or what. Frankly, I didn’t even care, but I was wondering if that meant I was going to have to do this 2 ½ week job by MYSELF, or if someone else was going to come and take his place, or what? Apparently, the Marketing company told the Temp Agency they didn’t want him back… they were just going to go with me. Apparently, they were VERY happy with how I was doing, and the other guy didn’t seem to “get it”. So… I was indeed going to have this 2-man-2 ½-week-job to myself. I figured, “Oh well… I can only do the job at the pace I can. If they get behind, its not my fault.”

Well, they didn’t get behind. In fact… that second Friday, on day 10 of this 14-business-day assignment… I only went in for 2 hours to finish everything up, and then was sent home. I finished a 2-man-2 ½-week-job… by myself, 4 days ahead of schedule. I saved them about $1300 in labor alone (the other guy’s salary, plus the days I was supposed to work, but didn’t need to) and *literally* worked myself out of a job.

Holy Cripes on Toast… why the hell do I have to be so fast and efficient??? I never thought I’d hate having a good work ethic and a high level of competence.

So that brings me to now. The next interview for an assignment is after the New Year, so the holidays are off for me, unintentionally. My savings for the camera was OVER the half-way mark… but then I sprung for a new suit, as I desperately needed one. (Hopefully, it’ll be a good investment to help get a better, more permanent position.) So, now I’m not OVER the half-way… I’m AT the half-way point.

Why do I feel Lost? Partly because I seem to perpetually be at the “half-way” point… and can’t seem to get closer than that. I’ve been “home” for almost a year now… and it doesn’t feel like “home”. This is a town I had at one time promised myself I’d never come back to… not a lot of happy memories for me. I never knew who I was until I left. Yet, here I am.

I often wonder if I made a mistake leaving California. Oftentimes, I hear about things, that feel like reasons I should have stayed there. The idea that “I’m where I’m supposed to be” doesn’t help.

Not to mention the fact that (he says while turning a can-opener on another container marked “Worms”) I have been feeling INCREDIBLY lonely.

When my last Ex and I first started dating, we had a conversation in which I mentioned the fact that I “took a long time between relationships”. It wasn’t a line… and I wasn’t lying. On average, I took about a year or so between a break-up, and starting a new relationship. Its now been over 2 years.

Now, my longest dry spell for sex is about 3 years and 3 months. So that part isn’t such a big deal for me… but its definitely the longest I’ve gone without companionship. During those 3 years 3 months, I did have romantic relationships… and during shorter dry spells, I did date… just nothing came about.

This has been 2 years without really ANYTHING. And I’ve been looking. When I finally got comfortable with the idea of dating again (a little longer than a year), I started slowly looking… and haven’t found anything. I don’t mean that I’ve had interests and they didn’t want to date ME… I haven’t met ANYBODY that *I* want to date. I meet some women… fine, decent people… and I just really don’t give a shit. And by “met”, I mean actually, physically MEET in person. I have tried going the route of the Internet, and I have now sworn it off completely. No more not for me. See the blog entry “I’m tired of this shite” for one such example. There was another after that… someone I was getting along with very nicely online and on the phone… and I wanted to meet, she said SHE wanted to meet. Guess what? We’ve never met. Make sense to you? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

The few people I *did* physically meet from online introductions? Didn’t exactly work out. The two that readily come to mind were both a little on the… overbearing side. Very upbeat, high energy, mile-a-minute kind of demeanors, etc. As I was waiting in a Barnes & Noble café to meet one, she called me on her cell phone, as she was a matter of minutes away, and as soon as I say, “Hello?” I hear in a very peppy tone, “ARE YOU NERVOUS?!!”

Well, I wasn’t “nervous”, but I was suddenly wondering if I *should* be… and then I actually WAS nervous. That probably wasn’t the best choice of words to use with me at that time… it was a little on the steamrollerish side. Now there’s nothing wrong with upbeat, high-energy… the girl was very lovely, and seemed nice. Maybe it was that first beat that just jarred me off the mood… but since I’ve been out of it for awhile… I don’t want to be steamrolled with a “fantastic, high-energy, extreme Type A personality”… I want the first meeting to be a little on the mellow side. Relaxed, non-pressure… because I’m not wanting to give any pressure, and I’m not looking FOR any pressure. Show me your Type-A personality LATER. For now… take a breath, please.

I do understand that talking about a “dry spell” can start to sound like one is a bit on the desperate side. Hell, I’ve even stopped myself and tried to contemplate if I was in fact being “desperate”. But I think that if I was desperate… I would have probably gone for one of the SteamRollerGirls, or still be in a Binary Courtship with one of the “Never Actually Meet” ones.

I think I *am* desperate… for good conversation. Doesn’t have to be witty, or super-intelligent… you don’t have to be a worldly, well-traveled, go-getter. Just be someone I can talk to. Someone who can be genuine over a cup of hot cocoa… who smiles only when she’s happy. Who knows how to listen… I mean REALLY Listen… and knows how to be listened to.

These days, I don’t get to talk to my friends as much as I like… the ones that are good to talk to, especially. And I actually miss going to therapy… it was so nice to have someone that just listened to you, without giving judgment, advice, or just waiting for a pause so they could talk.

I’m desperate for someone to trust. Because I’ve been having such a hard time doing so for so long.

When I was growing up here in New England, I had so much difficulty finding someone to date.

Then I moved to California… and it got HARDER. Almost a whole new culture to get used to. Then Southern California got even harder than that.

Now I’m back in New England… and it feels harder than ever. Is it my age, my personality, or just too used to Los Angeles? I can’t meet people the “regular way”. I can’t go to bars… I don’t drink. And yes, I’ve tried going to a bar and not drinking. It doesn’t work. The alcohol is actually the noun and verb that brings people together. It makes them vulnerable (in a sense). When I’m vulnerable, I don’t like interacting with people that AREN’T vulnerable themselves. I feel like they have an unfair advantage. I can only imagine that’s a subconscious reason why I’m usually left to my own there.

I’m alone… my destination seems so far off… and I keep hitting delays, detours and speed bumps. Any wonder I feel “Lost”?

Oh yeah… the title. Probably should make some kind of sense of that, huh?

Well… I’m trying to remain hopeful. I force myself to smile and constantly look forward to the future and TRY to remain upbeat about it, no matter how hard it gets, no matter how much disapproval I get from those that disagree with my plan… all of that. Though sometimes it feels that I’m barely hanging on, I have to keep doing it. And to help I try and keep some “inspirational” bits of philosophy around me that are always within sight.

And my inspiration sometimes comes from odd places. Because us true philosophers… True “Lovers of Wisdom” know that you don’t always have to look at Kant, Kierkegaard, Plato, Nietzsche, or whoever to get the best words of wisdom… you take them wherever you find them.

And one of my favorites comes from Jhonen Vasquez, a writer and comic artist who created “Johnny the Homicidal Maniac”… a very bloody, satirical comic book.

A lot of people have told me their own favorite parts of the book… such as “Dear Die-ary, I appear to be dead.” Or other such macabre gag. But my favorite comes at the very end. On the last page… in fact, it’s the last thing written, and frankly, the whole point of the story that Vasquez wrote. And its something I agree with completely… and will leave this blog entry on that. It’s not funny, it’s not bloody or disgusting… its just correct. It helps keep me going, and actually hopeful for the New Year, and that I can make 2008 better than 2007 and 2006.

Here it is.

“Dear Die-ary,
There’s nothing terribly wrong with feeling Lost, so long as that feeling precedes some plan on your part to actually do something about it.
Too often a person grows complacent with their disillusionment, perpetually wearing their “discomfort” like a favorite shirt.
I can’t say I’m very pleased with where my life is just now…
But I can’t help but look forward to where it’s going.”
-Jhonen Vasquez
“Johhny the Homicidal Maniac”

Happy New Year. Take care of yourself, and someone else.