Zombies, demons and haunted cabins, oh my! (tribute to George A. Romero)

It’s been about a year (and a month) since my mum asked me “So, how would Tesla Squad deal with a cabin in the woods?”

This was in response to a writer’s retreat I went on, where there were two blood moons, a cold, windy night that slapped tree branches against the glass doors and windows, a locked room with no key, sweet fuck all reception, and a dead bird.

Around the same time, not sure exactly when, but my brother and I went to see The Conjuring 2. My brother said “Sam and Dean would just turn the water on to full, bless it, pour salt in it, dump a ton of kerosene in it, and strike a match. Minimum.” I found it very hard to fault him on that logic.

So, today, I’ve been writing the opening to that scenario, but with Tesla Squad, and while I haven’t gotten that far into it just yet, I’m liking what I’ve got so far.

I’ve also got a DVD double feature, containing The Evil Dead (Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell), and Night of the Living Dead (the first feature by George A. Romero) who died over the weekend. I should watch these. For research.

 

 

I’m back in black (and white)

Okay, I’m not in black right now, but I am wearing shorts that are sort of… well, they were black when I got them. I’m also not in white, but I am white. I am SO white. If I were to go into the Ghetto, I would be shown where the nearest bus stop out of the Ghetto is, because I 1000% don’t belong in the Ghetto. But then I’m not exactly a middle class businessman with a wife and 2.5 kids and a golden retriever with a tire swing in his back yard either, so, what am I?

I know what I’m NOT, though. I’m a writer, a 30 something white man, and a smarter person than some 26 year old girl thinks I am. I’m autistic, not stupid. I’ve gone from maybe 40% Christian to 80% after the events of last year shook me up and spit me out. And I’ve come to the point in my life where I’ve looked around for an adult, found none, and come to the horrifying realization:

I AM an adult.

Shit. That means I have to act like one.

I had to get rid of some toxic friendships, and some of the associated friendships had to go too. That sucks.

On the plus side, my brother’s D&D campaign rocks, my bard is awesome, and my own campaign – written since stripping away the thin veneer of lies (my own and others’) – is going GREAT, thanks to my brother and my friend from school being joined by my best friend from Uni, and them having a sort of ‘good cop, bad cop, drunk cop’ dynamic going on (none of them are cops, I should point out).

I’ve also gotten back into reading The Fifth Season, as I made a Gentleman’s Agreement, and Flick started reading The Name of the Wind, so I have no excuse.

I’m still unemployed, but I signed up for some job alerts, updated my resume, and have started the ball rolling. Unemployment on a disability support pension is not exactly a fun thing to say I do for a living, so I usually stick with “writer”. It pays about the same anyway.

And I’m going to a concert next month! (Stone Sour) Plus, I’ve been able to go to Rockaoke a lot at this one place with darkness lit by candle light, and when I sang Drops of Jupiter, a few of the crowd lifted up those bad boys and waved them in the dark. So nice.

Yeah, I’ll leave it at that. There’s more, but that’s a good stopping point.

Peace out, or something.