Monday, October 6, 2025

From The Cult of Alien Gods

 

  "It seems that the core issue at stake in the horror story, like that in the debate over Atlantis and the other lost continents, is the isssue of science versus scientism. The former is a way of learning through experimentation, theorization, and testing. The latter is a dogmatic acceptance that what is known is all that can be known, and the accepted way of knowing is the only way to know. In a philosophical sense, horror tales seem to face a very postmodern struggle: the battle between positivism (scientism) and pure science. The authorities are powerless against the unseen forces because they cannot open their minds to investigate the possibility that the unseen can be real. As a result, institutional authority makes impotent pronouncements of impossibility instead of attempting to apply the methods of science to investigate. Like the heroes of Dracula, only those with open minds can take in all the evidence to supercede the ignorance of institutional science and vanquish the supernatural foe. True science, not scientism, wins the day but at the cost of admitting that there are other Things of which our philosophies cannot dream. Thus are the believers shown to be the true scientists, an appellation that the pseudoscientists of Atlantean or Lemurian persuasions very much wished to have for themselves."

Jason Colavito

Saturday, October 4, 2025

The Green Knight


The star is a bit spicy and long in the tooth for Gawain, but The Green Knight nearly makes up for it. 

Gathering Gloom 10/3

   
  Hey, Gloomer, it's always a good time getting to see my favorite band, The Gathering Gloom, at The Mauch Chunk Opera House in Jim Thorpe. I didn't get to ride the train from Reading or stay at the haunted inn, maybe next year. I did get to dance all night and sing "Why Can't I Be You?" to the lead singer, Matt. I'll take it. Plus I got a new bumper sticker to go along with Ron Paul REVOLution, Arrest Fauci, and Hindrance and Perfidia. 

Thursday, October 2, 2025

Dreams 10/2

 10/2

  Ron and I were having a holiday near the beach. It was someplace like Mystic. We wandered into a little family owned shop that used to be a restaurant where we had eaten before. The place was run by three siblings, two women and a man. I think their names were Anna, Sarah, and Tom, but can’t be sure. Anna was the oldest, probably in her fifties, and Sarah, the youngest, was a plump red head in her forties with pearly white skin. The shop was old, two floors, and interesting. I hadn’t realized that we had been there, years before, for a while. They sold all sorts of crafts. We were talking to all of them, but Sarah, mostly. She told me a story about a ghost tapping her on the shoulder. She said that she was going out in the boat. Ron and I sat down at a crowded counter space and ordered some food. I had two little glasses, one being a clear dessert cocktail with some sort of Sambuca mix that I sipped at. I think the other was just water, but they were both served in long stemmed dessert glassware. I had gotten up from the counter and continued to look around while we were waiting for our food. Just then somebody rushed in saying that Sarah had drowned. We all went down to the pier which was a stone’s throw away. We could see the dinghy in the shallow water, then Sarah, wearing a black one piece bathing suit, very white, on her side. Her face was hidden beneath her ginger curls. She looked like a seashell caught in lichen. We went back to the shop. I went downstairs and found two pieces that Sarah had made, a tiny seashell or stone mermaid, about an inch long, for curing migraines and a seal tray that I think was carved from Larimer. The seal might’ve been for incense. Both had little tags with Sarah’s name handwritten. Things got really chaotic in the shop after the drowning. Everybody was in shock. I was paging through an old scrapbook with baby pictures of Sarah. I had given Anna my items to ring up, and she asked what I was doing downstairs. She also said that the sinus mermaid worked. Two men had robbed the place, stealing sixty dollars worth of merchandise. I was back at my seat at the counter looking at a Scarlet O’Hara craft doll kit: a little cotton poppet to sew with two frocks sealed in a plastic bag with material and instructions. A man and his wife were sitting next to me, and the fellow said that Sarah was an Aries. I told him that I was Aries. He said that he was thirty-nine. He was chubby with olive skin, looked Portuguese.  I told him that I was twenty-nine, and his wife laughed. I was thinking that I was older, but wasn’t lying, had only forgotten. There was an older woman in a yellow and pink striped colonial costume with a mob cap, powdered wig, and clown makeup. I had followed her to Tom’s room, which was like the room Grandpap slept in, Up Camp, the family summer cottage in the country. I went to take the video camera from her until I noticed that she was taping Tom sleeping. I went back to the counter, and Ron wanted to know where I had been and why I hadn’t drunk my drink. He was bagging up his food, some fish and chips, in a brown bag, and I helped. The food was still hot and looked good. By this time everybody had gathered out front, mourning Sarah. There was supposed to be a ball that night, at the shop, but it had been cancelled. 


Dana's Dreams


Dana's Dreams Two


Dana's Dreams Three Revenge of the Dream Hog


Captivating Tarot

The Cinnamon Bear