Sunday, August 30, 2020




Cosmic Annihilation: The Process




The Video Horror Movie Review
Insert YouTube vid here--any vid will do.

 
The Poem

Cosmic Annihilation
The bad horror movie 
The YouTube review 
The viewer watching 
The poem is written 
The circle implodes

The Review of the Poem
I didn't see the movie or watch the review video, but the poem speaks to me. It says that without me, bad Art becomes good.

The Comment
You're so full of shit. Bad movie. Bad review video. Bad poem. Bad reader/watcher. Bad review of a review. Bad comment. Fuck! Now I'm part of the circle. But at least you are too.

The Class Assignment
Write an essay on who the "you" is referring to in the last sentence of that comment.

The Essay
The pronoun clearly refers to the bad teacher who gave us this meaningless assignment.

The Grade
A+

Tuesday, August 18, 2020



Horror Literature Structures
Nonlinear or Linear?

by Professor Anthony Servante



Literature and the reader are separate experiences. The book stands alone. The reader stands alone. What the reader believes of the book is not the book itself but a belief in himself. The book together with the reader trigger this belief. But the relation between the two is not real in the sense that the reader can truly know the book. He can only know what he himself believes he knows. This illusion one has when reading is that one finds meaning in what one reads. It came to my attention while watching a YouTube video that explained the meaning of Lost Highway by David Lynch. The reviewer actually believed that he figured out the correct interpretation of the film, as if he had solved a grand decades old mystery that most certainly contained an answer to be found, as if he had just read an Agatha Christie novel and had deduced who the killer was. The problem is, of course, that such novels as Christie's are linear and give us the killer by the end of the story. That's the structure. There is no ambiguity. Lynch films are nonlinear and provide an experience, not a solution. Our reviewer was forcing a square peg into a round hole.

Let's look at another example of nonlinear v linear structure. Let's consider an ironic jest. A heavyset person walks into a room. Two friends observe the man's arrival and one friend says, "Look who's here! Skinny!" There are two views here in this jest. One is a lie. The gentleman is not skinny. He is fat. Two is the truth. We understand that he is fat because of the word "skinny". A lie and a truth together equal a third structure called irony. Irony elicits a response of humor from the person who experiences two lie and truth simultaneously. However, the person who sees only the lie cannot see the truth, for how can a fat man be skinny? Thus, the person who hears the lie can only respond to the jest, "Are you blind? That man is fat, not skinny." For this person, there is no third structure and therefore no jest, just the lie.

Let's consider the three structures in play here. There are two opposing structures working together to create a third structure. Fat is true, skinny is false, and together, true and false create the third structure, the jest. They must work together. Accept only one side and there is no third structure. The lie can be misconstrued or misinterpreted (that man is fat, not skinny, are you blind?). The truth can only be understood in its third form (the word skinny in truth tells us he is fat).

Literature in its third structure conveys truth. However, every nonlinear (third) form tells each person a different truth since we each create the third structure from our unique perspective. We decide how fat or skinny the subject of the jest is, as we also determine if the structure is being sarcastically mean-spirited or humorously playful. It is subjectively determined and individualized. Thus, there can be no one answer to a third structure. There will be as many interpretations as there are individuals.

Which brings us to the literature of Horror.

Sara here. I will bring the rest of this article to you as time alots. I need to edit the typos and grammar errors before publishing it here. I will take my time with it to get it right. Thank you. Hope you enjoy it. 

Friday, August 14, 2020



The History of Norinko Hanasaki:
Post Trauma Chronicles

Introduction by SaraH


Self-portrait by a post traumatic patient



My name is Sara Howe. My friend and mentor, the late Anthony Servante, referred to me as SaraH. That's how I'll be known here for this series. 

I met Anthony at the Starbucks where I worked as a barista. I'm now the manager. 

I study journalism. I was a college sophomore at the time. When he found out that I studied writing, Anthony asked me if I wanted to help him edit his blog, Servante of Darkness, and I accepted. 

When I first started to edit the blog, Anthony was working on an investigation of a missing middle school student. Her name was Norinko. The investigation ended when Norinko was found. 

The long search for the girl led to some intense confrontations between Anthony and friends and family of Norinko. He was blamed for taking advantage of the bad situation for the sake of getting more hits on his blog. 

Anthony went into a deep depression. He sought counseling and shared his experience with his trauma on the blog. Others with similar situations began sharing their own experiences with Anthony. They also shared a variety of therapies that were available, depending on the degree of the trauma. 

And the Trauma & Therapy series was created. In short, the series was Anthony's personal therapy for his own depression. Although he was working his way through his problems, his family and I believe that he should not have quit going to his psychiatrist. He also went off his medications. 

Sadly, the victim of the abduction, the young girl, Norinko, reached out to Anthony to let him know that her family was wrong to blame him for anything. 

Anthony passed away and never got to see her message. I, however, did. 

Norinko and I have been in touch since Anthony passed away. She's been telling me her story, the story she wanted to tell Anthony. I agreed to write this history, with the permission of the teenager's parents.  

So, we begin The History of Norinko Hanasaki.

FOR ANTHONY SERVANTE.

Sunday, August 2, 2020


NOW ON SALE, 

edited by Sara Howe, who brings you this blog, 
a collection of Horror stories by Rhys Hughes, Gordon Linzner, Gary Fry, and Ramsey Campbell. 

With a ghostly cover by Brande Barrett. 

And a special preview of a work in progress by new writer, Bridget Wishart, former singer of Hawkwind, and current singer for Spirits Burning and Band of Doctors. 

Click Here to Purchase. Exclusive on Amazon Ebooks. 

Thursday, July 23, 2020


Music Man George Grant
The Year of the Scorpion
by Franklin E. Wales

Front Cover

Screaming George

According to Dictionary.com the mystical art of alchemy is primarily known as the study of methods for: 1.) Transmuting base metals into gold. 2.) Finding a universal solvent and an elixir of life.  3.) A magical power or process of transmuting a common substance, usually of little value, into a substance of great value.
George Grant is a musical alchemist. He archives this by taking the pure elements of Rock, Soul, R&B, Doo-wop, Rockabilly, even a bit of Gospel style when the mood hits him and blending them into a completely new elixir that is at once both familiar and completely unique unto itself. A true craftsman, Grant is the total package: A producer, a musician, a composer, a vocalist beyond compare. He weaves his musical tapestries in a way that not only brings you in; but manages to make you, the listener, part of the experience.
The seeds to this ability seem to come from the earliest days of growing up in a household where he says, “One could hear Steve Wonder or Jackie Wilson as readily as Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix.” Young George loved and absorbed all music he heard, tossing everything into his mental crucible, melting and blending until he was able to take his craft to the stage.

On Deck

The club scene in and around New York City is without a doubt a killing field for many. Countless musicians have left their hopes and dreams behind on that threshing floor. But that is exactly where George Grant paid his dues, honed his craft and made his bones; becoming over time a highly sought after musician, vocalist and producer, a triple threat if you will, for a lot of great artists.
It wasn’t until 2006 that I became aware of Grant when his band The Serpenteens released their debut album, ‘Dead Men Walking.’ This is a full bodied balls to the wall rock and roll album full of genre blending, utilizing horror, sci-fi and cult movies as its theme and vocalized in a way that grab you and pull you deep inside. There are quite a few YouTube videos out there to sample and I strongly urge you to do so.
I have followed Grant’s evolution through two more Serpenteens releases, the Soul/R&B/Rock release of ‘Got To Get My Mind Right’ by George Grant and The Mighty Templars, and the power trio, Zeppelin-ish, The Final Sound’s release of ‘It Can't Be Undone.’ One thing I’ve noticed is Grant has a way of attracting topnotch musicians for whatever project he’s working on and bringing out the best in each of them. Every release by Grant is a genre blending mix of solid music that touches the listener personally. Every release is somehow as raw as your last nerve, yet polished as smooth as a rare gem. Grant’s music simply put is a pleasure you should self indulge in.

Goggles

            Which brings us to Grant’s latest evolution; the Black Rose Burning debut release of ‘The Year of the Scorpion.’ This is Grant’s first completely solo project and by solo I mean the way John Fogerty produced 1984’s Centerfield. Locked away in his studio Grant wrote, sang, and played every note. Now there’s a place even angels fear to tread.
Black Rose Burning sounds like a band name, and so I was surprised to find it was a 100% solo project. When I asked him, George said, “It’s always been a generic name and symbol floating around through all the things I’ve done and I always knew I wanted to use it as a band name at some point down the road. I consider myself the ‘Black Rose Burning.”
As of this writing I understand Grant already has a pretty impressive list of musicians lining up to take this album on the road when the clubs reopen. I’ve no doubt that once again he has found the best to surround himself with.

Logo

A quick review of what The Year of the Dragon has to offer:
1.      Soul Is On Fire. This would be right at home on one of those Overcoming Adversity movie soundtracks from the eighties. A perfect opening.
2.      When We Dance. Beautiful. Rich. Danceable.
3.      Broken. This one is so damn emotional. It’s beautiful in a melancholic way, and soul wrenching.
4.      In Dreamtime. A modern day lullaby. Love the overlapping vocals. Damn thing is absolutely mesmerizing.
5.      Two Coins For The Ferryman. Get your convertible out, drop the top and go for a serious coastline drive. This is summer joyriding music.
6.      Outgunned. A perfect grab you by the throat rocker. It’s like you stripped the Eagles Get Over It down to its last nerve and rebuilt it with more attitude.
7.      Waiting For The Night. A stunning power ballad! Enough said.
8.      Under Twin Suns. Best overall ear candy, and the album’s debut single. Find the video here: https://youtu.be/mfryUDir1qo
9.      Whisper. This one haunts me. First couple listens I thought he was the knight in shining armor. Slowly it morphed into something much more gothic. A perfect wrap up number.

You can check out Black Rose Burning on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/blackroseburning/
Or better yet go to https://blackroseburning.bandcamp.com/releases to see what exceptional musical elixir the alchemist gave us this time. You can find album info, samples and more while you’re there.


Saturday, July 18, 2020


True Stories from Coma Memories
by
Unknown Patients





I don't trust the medication the nurse gives me. 
She injects me with it. 
I ask her what color is it in pill form. 
This makes her laugh. 
And my suspicions grow darker. 
One night I sneak out of the hospital room and visit my neighbor. 
She is very old. 
She wears an oxygen mask. 
She is looking at me. 
She lifts her wrinkled hand to me. 
There is a needle embedded deep across the length of a fat vein on her skinny hand. 
She beckons me. 
As I near her bedside, she pulls her mask aside. 
She hoarsely speaks. 
"Are you dead or am i?" 
You are, I lie. 
"Good," she says. 
"Then this is your dream."
I awake in bed. 
I remember the color of the medicine flowing into her vein. 
Red. 
The color of death.

Wednesday, July 8, 2020


True Stories from Coma Memories
by
Unknown Patients




Emily's eyelids silently exposed her waking eyes. First thing she saw was Uncle Thomas staring at her in profound shock. He shouted for the nurse, then pressed the button by my bedside, and shouted again. The plump nurse with too much coffee in her veins was about to shush Uncle but saw that I was awake. "I'll get the physician on duty. Her doctor won't be in till 5:00 A.M." She disappeared into the doorway. 

Uncle continued to stare. Then he took a deep breath and reached into his coat pocket and removed a brand new deck of playing cards. He crinkled the plastic wrap free from the box, stepped on the trash lever, opening the can lid and tossed the wrapper into the receptacle. He shook the cards from the box and replaced it into his pocket. Then he began to shuffle the cards. 

Crisp slaps fluttered and clashed one card into the next. It was like a song and dance of cards. A riverdance. 

"Want to see some magic?" he asked me.
"You mean a trick? That's what you do, isn't it?"
"Pick a card."
"I already did." I showed him the ace of spades. He searched the cards and found that the deck was missing the black ace in my hand. I tossed it in the air. It didn't fall back. "The card is on top of the deck."
He flipped the top card and it was indeed the ace of spades. "How did you do that trick?"
"You do tricks. That was magic. Not a magic trick. Magic. Like that doctor on night duty. He's gone now. And so's the nurse. This isn't even the hospital anymore." 
Uncle's look of shock returned when he saw I was in my own bed at home. "No, that's not possible. It's a trick."
"What if it isn't? What then should we do?"
"I don't know. But you need to go back to the hospital."
"Why, so they can put me back in a coma? That won't work again. No more tricks. I'm not ever going back to sleep. Nor will I eat your drugged food. I'm going back home. To my real home."
Uncle was quickly on his cell phone. I allowed him to contact the tricksters. Let them come. I'm wide awake now.

The nurse checked the patient's pulse. The night physician entered the hospital room. "How's our patient?" The nurse shook her head. "False alarm, I guess." "No problemo. I'm making my rounds." 
"What happened?" asked the nurse.
Uncle Thomas answered, "She opened her eyes, and I called you. Then she went back to sleep."
"Are you sure it wasn't just a trick of the eye?"
Uncle Thomas slid the deck of cards back into the box and said, "I'm sure that's all it was. After all, it's medicine, not magic, right?"
"That's right, sir." And then she left the room. 

Uncle Thomas resumed his watch. No more close calls, he thought. He trashed the box of playing cards and brought a fresh deck from his other pocket. It was sealed with the same wrapper as the other pack. Just in case. Just in case.