Say my name, say my name...

Today I learned who "the man" is. Who the man is at Netflix at least. You see, I am now convinced there is a man (or a lady) (or the little boy from The Shinning) that sits in an office at Netflix somewhere. Their job is to review your que. To see what you have on deck and from time to time hit you up with an oddball combo. You know what I mean...you get Spaceballs and Balls of Fury. Or you get Redneck Zombie Massacre in the same mail delivery as Barbie in Mermadia. The ironic combo. Or, in some cases, the embarrassing combo of films you want but didn't expect to get in the same week.

Now I enjoy Netflix, don't get me wrong. I just think that someone is toying with me, or the horror Gods are in alignment: as today I received both My Name is Bruce and His Name was Jason. both films I have been waiting to see, but was not expecting to get together. Could there really be a small boy, rabid robot dog, or computer program fucking with my que?? That ain't nothing nice. But, I will be enjoying watching these two horror giants. Jason and Bruce. Maybe one day they could battle each other. With the winner taking on "the man" at Netflix.

He would not run...

What would Jason do? What would he do if he found out that Marcus Nispel was remaking him. What would Kane Hodder do if he found out Derek Mears was playing him? What will Michael Bay do when he runs out of major horror properties to remake?

All of these questions will be answered with time. While I wait patiently at the dock of crystal lake like the rest of us for this new re-launch--I wonder--"this is still just theater fluff, right?" This, and the countless remakes before it are what we call theater fodder. Movies for teens and old school horror junkies like myself to maybe catch in the theatre--more likely to catch on DVD. But the real horror is out there. unfortunately, this Winter it is not in the theatre.

I will see the new Jason--for entertainment. More than likely on DVD. Maybe even Cupid will get me the what would Jason do t-shirt I've always wanted. The preview looks neat-- I like the burlap sack look....I like the atmosphere....and I like the director. Marcus Nispel did a yeoman's job with the Texas Chainsaw re-launch.

There is one issue I will take before seeing the film: HE WOULD NOT RUN. There is a rather cool, jaw-drop inducing "Jason running" scene in the preview. I myself at first was even all like "holy shit, that's cool." but....he would not run. Jason was a slug. A meat head. A drowned hydrocephalus head- soggy- bulky- behemoth. He would not run. This is the one scene that looks to be making him into more of a video game killer. Let's hope this is not the case.

What I will do is enjoy the show. But- let us not forget, the real horror films that are out there (just maybe not in theatres). Like MARTYRS. LET THE RIGHT ONE IN. In October- THE BOX. OFFSPRING. And many many others. The New Friday the 13th is our theatre horror fair for this month. Most of us will not run, but drive to the video store to see the angry Voorhees boy.

Cuts happen...

Things happen. New presidents are elected, years change, and blog writers loose their interest. I admit- I haven't blogged since....well, last year. Since we still had a crooked white guy as president. Since Mirrors was still in theaters (and now is tanking just as bad on DVD...what let down for Aja fans). I will make no excuses. I will make no promises to "do better" or "make-up" somehow, as the devotees to this blog are few and far between. There aren't many people, even many of my own friends who share my love for horror films and poetry. Sure, maybe some people like one or the other. But few see the corlation between the two. A short tense hour and a half horror film can easily evoke the same thrill as a short tense poem.

So here I will continue. I will continue to comment on the horror film and literary industry. I will juxtapose this commentary with my own poems on the side (quite literally). I will not just log in and check facebook alone. I will not blog once a year. I will not make promises about my blog.

This will remain the place to find out what is happening in the world of poetry and horror. Light and dark. Or, dark and dark.

back in the saddle

Yes, I have not blogged for awhile. No excuses, just haven't found time. Good thing is I have written a bucket full of poems...which i will add to my Urbis site later this evening. But, I do promise to keep up on more horror posts...especially now that we are in the most Hallowed month of the year. The best one of the all. All things good in my life have happened in October...or around Halloween. If I were Napoleon Dynamite, I'd say "It's pretty much my favorite holiday." If one could pick their death date...I'd like to die around Halloween. (but that's not a request for any crazies that read the blog). Anyways...I will start my horror DVD viewing/reviewing this week with Argentos Mother of Tears and Feast 2. I know Feast 2 might be crap...but I want to find out for myself as I really enjoyed the first one. And Argento is Argento...should be great. I will review these, as well as a gore-load of other classics right here on cuts happening in the coming days and weeks. A horror movie a night. And I aint talking about that crap you find on sci fi.

once more....with feeling

While not a horror icon, Forrest Griffin is an icon to me. I have not blogged for awhile. Horror is still and will always be, my third love. Behind my wife (#1) and poetry (#2). But if there was a life I live- or a life I'd like to live- it would be Forest Griffin's. The real life Brad Pitt from fight Club. The man who can turn a boyish happy face into Swiss-cheese in under fifteen minutes. I have always wanted to be a fighter. The blood dripping into my lungs, in real life- not just on screen.

So, I wrestled in high school. I was never good. But I loved the sport. The brutality. The contact. The blood after practice. The drive. The passion. I was never good, but I tasted the feeling just enough to make it stick. Now I am a high school wrestling coach. This would have to be my fourth love, coaching wrestling. Just this past week I started training and weightlifting again. I want to get into shape before this season begins (Nov 1). The feeling i get after my body has been put through the grinder is on par with the feeling I get after writing a good poem. So here I am, once more....with feeling. Trying to not talk about fight club.

Six Feet Under True Blood

While I will refrain from judgement until I see more episodes...the early reports (from me and my wife) indicate that HBO's new series True Blood will be fantastic. No, I have not read the Charlaine Harris books, but will over this Fall. Like the Dexter series on Showtime, I like how cable networks are making good shows that promote better literature. Will this series still has much to develop, it looks great. Horror= bring it on. the show is by Alan ball who did Six Feet Under...a friggin classic of a show. I used to count the days until another new six feet episode. i hope to get the same from this program. And if it fails...so what, at least the networks are trying. Although the new incarnation of Masters of Horror (Fear Itself) was watched by me and two other people. Kudos to networks, especially HBO and Showtime for giving horror a chance. Let the blood friggin flow!

sleep....continued

"I've been guarding my gate for a long time..bitch!"

-Freddy proclaims to Alice Johnson (Lisa Wilcox) in the final scene of A Nightmare on Elm Street 4.

That line just stuck with me. Here we are, another random Tuesday...and I am restless.

Let me explain. Every night, I fall asleep watching a horror film. I go on kicks. Or series you could call them. Right now, for the hundred and fifth time, I am on an Elm Street kick (no, that's not all I watch, I am not obsessed). I start with one....then watch em' all...all the way up the Freddy v. Jason (which I loved) or...whatever else "they" make my "last" film of the week.

That line....I've been guarding my gate a long time....stuck with me. i have been doing this awhile. even before blogging. Before facebook. Even before Bill Gates. I have been in love with horror. I complain, yet, bring on the lack of sleep. I admit, yet relish in the love of horror. I want to hug and appreciate all those that admit...horror is A O K. No, I am not goth. I am a straight-laced father, teacher and I go to church. But horror is undefinable. Thanks to all that are out there, reading this, loving Halloween, enjoying blood, and seeing the truth that this genre presents us with.