Halloween Parade – Twisted Mixtape Tuesday

In two days, I’ll walk hand in hand with a 9-year-old zombie softball player, a 10-year-old astronaut and a 17-year-old Batman through several neighborhoods as they knock on strangers’ doors and beg for cavities.

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I don’t really like candy (except for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, which are definitely of the Devil) and costumes for people over the age of about 23 kind of creep me out, unless it’s a consenting adult role playing deal, then I support that 100 percent. Wait, what?

But I do like Halloween music. I should clarify I like “my kind” of Halloween music, not The Monster Mash or Purple People Eater.

Jen from Twisted Mixtape http://jenkehl.com/

My Skewed View

asked for a scary playlist this time. Since it’s officially Lou Reed Tribute week on My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog, the recently deceased brilliant artists gets the leadoff tune and the post title. These are the song’s any and every Halloween party should play, but don’t.

Halloween Parade – Lou Reed. It starts with a downtown fairy singing out Proud Mary, then introduces a mean Southern Queen and a collection of city freaks that only Lou could tell their stories. It’s like the best Halloween party, ever, that you could get invited to if you just opened up your mind, completely. RIP Lou.

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Bela Lugosi’s Dead – Bauhaus. This is my only obvious choice. It should be the season’s theme song. It’s the creepiest epic ever and it created goth rock. Peter Murphy’s macabre performance is amazing.

Crime Scene Part One – Afghan Whigs. I just wanted to play some Afghan Whigs. It starts with a funeral march then expresses a literary tale of a sinful life, death, resurrection, murder, betrayal. Edgar Allan Poe wouldn’t have bought a ticket to this concert and rocked out.

Suzanne Vega – Blood Makes Noise. The title alone wins. But Suzanne’s vocal is scary because it’s so real. She becomes a scream queen and then some over three minutes and blistering bass line.

I Want You – Elvis Costello. The Hall of Fame champ of sardonic wit starts this off as a tongue in cheek expression of obsessive love, like The Police’s Every Breath You Take, but smarter. Then, he goes off into a scary mindset that makes you think something totally different. This is brilliant songwriting.

Toadies – Possum Kingdom. Is this is a lovers’ suicide pact? Is it a murder? Oh snap, it’s the Devil coming to take a soul and it rocks harder and has more depth than Charlie Daniels’ fiddle song about Johnny. The guitar alone is scary, as in scary good. What happened to this band? Did the devil take them after this album?

Happy Halloween

Are you looking for something interesting and music driven to read? I have two for you. My books, The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com

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100 Word Song – Sharp Dressed Man

Leeroy and I really enjoyed this week with 100 word song. The entries varied from comedic to dramatic to pleasantly weird. One of my favorites was from longtime writing colleague and second time 100 word song player, Jessie aka @jesterqueen http://jesterqueen.com/ . Her cute but poignant tale from stuffed animals and affection was perfectly placed in middle of the other entries. Leeroy asked Jes to pick the song and of course, the Alabama rock music fan delivered. She chose ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man. Before you break out your black sunglasses, spinning guitar moves, and imagine yourself behind the wheel of a custom 1933 Ford Coupe, we go back to Soul To Body and see if Jake’s women can make him feel better without pressure or manipulation.

Last time: https://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/10/17/100-word-song-falling-to-pieces/

Laughter woke Jake from a medicated sleep. Sprawled over the long, dark green living room couch, he heard Violet’s and Augusta’s guffaws. Through intense soreness from the car accident injuries he walked into the kitchen. His mother-in-law had left but his daughter and sister-in-law were enjoying old photos. Violet shouted.

“Dad! This is the greatest picture ever!”

The corners of the three-inch by five-inch snapshot were frayed but the central image drew Jake’s grin.

“Vi, we were three sharp dressed men that Halloween, dressing like ZZ Top. I miss Gus and your mom making me do wild stuff like that.”

My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog
As always, you have until next Tuesday night to write 100 words inspired by ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man. Any format is acceptable and you don’t have to use the lyrics or the song name. We’re looking for inspiration not imitation. Make sure to use the Mr. Linky to link your story then tweet and the facebooks and whatever else to tell people.
Here’s some Houston, Texas rock and roll right before got they got completely carttonish and ridiculous, ZZ Top, Sharp Dressed Man

Zombie Blonde Disturbia

Five twenty six a.m. shakes me with the sound of Rihanna. Since I’m the dumb jerk that gets up to wake the dead, you’d think I could get some hard rock, punk or Britpop.

I do my morning routine. It occurs to me that things are normal since no one is speaking to me, including the golden retriever. He feeds, and the others make themselves presentable.

I leave the bathroom and jump back. They’re all standing in the kitchen, staring at me with beautiful deep blue eyes.

“We want food” they say in creepy unison.

My wife and two of my daughters, 15 and 7, stumble toward me expressionless, mouths agape. Their gorgeousness deflecting their deadly desires. I respond cautiously.

“Go watch tv or something. Bobina, can you help me? The dog’s fed.”

She scowls at me. Her perfectly round face, accented by deep dimples and dirty gold curls around her cheeks, masks devious attitude.

“He wants more. If you what’s good for you, I mean, if you love me, you’ll give it to him and let me watch Phineas and Ferb.”

I roll my eyes. A minute later, I answer a knock at the door. Instead of sitting on the couches, my wife and two daughters are standing with lifeless shoulders, staring at the tv. I realize an awful truth. They’re zombies.

I open the door. It’s my 9 year old niece and my 8 year old daughter.

“What are you two doing here? You girls aren’t supposed to be here today.”

My 8 year old, as usual, does the talking.

“Oh daddy, we heard you were making pancakes. We snuck out of our other houses, made someone drive us then my cousin ate the driver, and now we’re here. Phineas and Ferb! Go get those pancakes, daddy!”

I grab the arms of my 8 year old, push my niece over to the others and run into the kitchen. I drop to one knee and hug her tightly. She feels normal. She’s strong and warm.

“Baby, talk to me. What’s wrong with them? I mean I know all four of them are nightmares in the morning, but, they’re zombie-like.”

My 8 year old kisses me on the forehead.

“Daddy, they are zombies. It’s Halloween. They aren’t afraid to show you they’re zombies on Halloween, silly.”

I touch her face, her arms, her legs, and feel her heartbeat.

“You’re ok, sweetie? They didn’t turn you into them?”

She shakes her head and takes a grape dum dum sucker from the pocket of her ripped jeans.

“Daddy, you made me or you had me made, whatever? You and I are robots. They can’t change robots into zombies. I’m 8 and I know that. That’s why they don’t eat us. Now, get those pancakes.”

I hug her and send her into the living room. I watch her sit everyone down.

A few minutes later, I deliver several pancakes to the living room. My wife and teenager are on one couch. The three younger girls are on the other loveseat. The golden retriever covers the floor like a 95 lb throw rug. They devour the pancakes like wolves tearing  raw meat.

“What is the matter with ya’ll? They’re just pancakes.”

Without warning, a creepy chant begins.

“Daddy’s pancakes are people! Daddy’s pancakes are people!”

I run into the kitchen and look at the box.

“Oh. Dear. God. It’s true!”

Then I wake up. It’s pretty much the same kind of nightmare two or three times a week. Happy Halloween.

*disclaimer* my niece and 8 yr old are brunettes, but, for some reason, in the nightmare, they’re blonde.

****blogger’s note****

My family of ladies are the prettiest pop zombies you’ve ever seen. I wanted to have some fun with Katie’s The Lightning and the Lightning Bug Halloween prompt of “The Living Nightmare” http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/

Today’s song is something my girls would like. At times, especially in the mornings, they’re aren’t far off from this story. They do love pancakes. Here’s Rihanna’s Disturbia.

I Must Be Dreaming

Last time with Helene Troy: https://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/10/24/maps/

Everything is gray. Helene Troy’s business suit is the color of window putty. An expressionless man in a neutral wool suit slams a stack of colorless papers on her desk. Helene trys to touch them, then recoils in terror. Her hands are missing. Blood is everywhere. It’s gray too. Her screams echo helplessly.

Helene wakes up sweating. She removes her wet t-shirt.

“I hate that dream. “

She rises, grabs her acoustic guitar, a pencil and a small gray notebook and writes.

“I’m not scared of ghosts. Halloween isn’t a thrill. What terrifies me is being run of the mill.”

*****blogger’s note****

Like Blossom, This is a very special Halloween themed episode of Helene Troy. The rest of the story can be found here: https://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ It is also a 100 word response to VelvetVerbosity’s 100 word challenge http://www.velvetverbosity.com/2011/10/29/100-words-grief-frailty-fright/ of “HALLOWEEN”. She said to scare her. Her anti corporate punk rock ness will appreciate this.

 

Today’s song is weird one for me. My wife and I like Evanescence a lot. I really enjoy their early stuff. Bleed (I Must Be Dreaming) is from their demo record. I loved Amy Lee’s voice. I think Helene would too.

I Haven’t Got A Clue

Twenty years is a long time to hold a grudge. Maybe writing this story will make it end.

I don’t care for Halloween. It just does nothing for me. My wife and kids love dressing up, carving pumpkins, trick or treating, watching scary movies, and being on prolonged sugar highs. I go through the motions with them, because they have my love and attention. If i tell the truth, I could live with a horror flick or three and eating my weight in pumpkin pie for a weekend, then calling it all off. I realize it’s a time to not take things seriously, loosen up, and have fun. If you know me, then you understand, I don’t have fun when I’m supposed to.

I enjoyed Halloween as a child. Two decades ago, something happened and I just decided I was made for Christmas and Easter, so All Hallow’s Eve could shove it sideways.

Like a lot of guys, I have an over the top fascination with The Godfather Movie Trilogy. In 1991, I was one of a few people who actually thought the third Godfather film was art. Since I was a teenager I have had people tell me I look like Andy Garcia. When my hair’s long, the tan is deep, and I’m in the right mood, I see what they’re talking about. Andy played Vincent Mancini-Corleone in the third movie. He makes more wardrobe changes than Madonna during a tour. He chews scenery. Mostly, he steals the movie from Al Pacino. For a costume party, I decided I would be Andy’s Vincent. I had to work that afternoon so that wearing everything to the radio station. The suit jacket was wool. The black mock turtle was too tight. I had half a bottle of hair gel slicking my hair.

Despite being uncomfortable, not really costumed but dressed up, and extraordinarily cranky from work and school, I met my friends at the party. I entered the scenario wanting people to “get” my Halloween idea. When people asked if I had just come from Catholic Mass I decided I wasn’t having fun. Then things got out of hand. I drank too much “Halloween punch”, got sick thus ruining a really nice sports coat and found my girl who may or may not have been more than a friend being overly nice to a not very super Superman. That night, and subsequent Halloween disappointments, I have recoiled in horror at the idea that the day and night are anything more than a time for me to be angry and regretful.

I’ve struggled for years with anxiety and how that has clouded my thinking for the most simple things in life. Halloween isn’t anything more than an excuse to let go and laugh. Watching my wife and kids really be excited for October 31st has me thinking that this “holiday” is just an excuse for kids to be kids and grown ups to be kids. When it comes to having fun at the right time, often, I haven’t got a clue.

*****blogger’s note ****

This is my entry into my friends at Write on Edge http://www.writeonedge.com ‘s prompt about Halloween costumes and The Lightning and the Lightning Bug’s Halloween Memory of a “Horror” http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/ .

Today’s song was playing at that party in 1991. I’m a Dramarama fan. I enjoy this song every five or so years it crosses my path. I heard it this morning by accident looking for a Soundgarden song. It brought back the memory of twenty years ago. Then, I wrote. Here’s Dramarama’s I Haven’t Got A Clue.