Jules Just Write

The horror! The horror!

–Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

Tomorrow’s October. And October brings with it a few of my favorite things.

• Fall in AZ
• My Birthday (because I get cake)
• HALLO-FUCKING-WEEN

 

CAPS LOCK in that last bullet has a very good reason. I love Halloween. I love horror. Every year, around the first of October my blood lust begins to kick in. I faithfully tune into Bravo’s 100 Scariest Movie Moments Countdown even though I’ve seen it just under a baker’s dozen. It’s my biological clock. I crave horror. I want to sit on the couch for hours and watch gore.  All types of horror flicks get me going – psychological, aliens, slasher. Sometimes I just have the hankering for a good ol’ fashioned disemboweling.

The thrill of terror is something I must have, especially in October. Watching a horror movie when I’m home alone is something I don’t even balk at.

I’m not sure where my love of horror came from. It was probably bred and nurtured when my mom locked me in the closet every night and made me rearrange the heads on Barbie Dolls. I called Ken “daddy”.

Kidding.

I think it was – and I’m gonna brag a bit – because I really didn’t have a lot of boundaries as a kid. My sister, my cousin and I would rent movies with no parental consent whatsoever. Hey, 1990, you rocked. Cashier, scanning up that R-rated movie for a bunch of 12-year-olds, you are what makes America proud. Keep doin’ what you do.

I still remember popping in the Silent Night, Deadly Night VHS and sitting terrified but managing to finish the whole movie.

14-years-old, watching Species with your dad and five of his work buddies, no biggie right?

The auto erotic strangulation scene in B-movie Devil Fish was one of the highlights of my youth.

My cousin and I called placed bets on who we thought were the serial killers in our neighborhood.

So yeah. Let’s get off my freakish childhood tangent before everyone starts to wonder even more about my childhood years (The Library, Candlestick, Mrs. White, but get off my back, OKAY?).  Everything horror is always welcome. But it’s not just the movies that make Halloween. I love decorating my house.

The “fallish” food goodies.

The costumes. And though I’d love to show off my freshly shaved legs once a year, I don’t go for the typical girly outfits. I like a little sportier. Typically, my costumes must include at least one of the following: cigarettes, alcohol and blood of the fake variety. Combine all three of those and it’s just a regular Saturday night at my place.

 

In fact, I love Halloween so much, I often fantasize that should these flopping ovaries ever conceive a child, I’ll give birth on Halloween. I’ll be at some sort of super awesome party, dancing to the Monster Mash when my water will break. Then it will be glorious chaos thanks to the full moon and I’ll be wheeled into the hospital wearing some sort of large costume ensemble, I’m picturing maybe a pregnant nun or a maybe I’ll be a clown with floppy red shoes and I’ll end up making the doctor wear my clown nose while he delivers my baby.

But I haven’t put much thought into this scenario or anything.

So break out the apple cider and ready the machete because on this here blog we’re going to celebrate Halloween. Celebrate the weird. The gore. The movies. Some writing stuff, I guess.

Oh yes, a Halloween Blog spectacular shall be had.

Just make sure you bring your rape whistle.