Me and the lovely, lovely Mad Mae March will be sharing a table with Kerry Giantsquid Lipp March 7-9 at Horror Realm! I’ll be selling prints, comics (if they get here in time) and doing tarot readings. Kerry will be promoting some of his written stuff and Mae will be doing whatever it is she’s doing these days, which is mostly looking her fantastic self.
Come see us, have your fortune read, buy some prints, talk about books and heads exploding or just bask in our hellish glow.
Be there or be… well, its not so much a square as it is something that’s pointedly not round. I… I think its a trapezoid slowly rotating in the deep, dark abyss…
Where was I? Oh yes. Here’s Horror Realm’s website.
If you need something to do on Valentine’s Day that isn’t hoarding gold to make into a roost (no wait. That’s dragons. Dragons do that.) I will be at The State Theater in South Bend, selling art and doing tarot readings. Of course, I’m not the main feature: there’s going to be a bunch of bands and some dance acts there as well. The show is called My Bloody Valentine and we’ve got tons of other local artists. That’s The State Theater in downtown South Bend. Admission is $3 a person, $5 for a couple, doors open at 7 pm and close at 1am. And if you’re a dragon and you’re reading this- this applies to you, too. Feel free to take human form and mingle.
A long-overdue Flock story that is begging for me to illustrate properly. Quite long, but the moral of the story is… well, I suppose there isn’t one apart from ‘don’t scare the mushrooms.
There had to be a pile of them by now, and Henry was going insane by their very presence. He’d thrown them into the ocean, down the garbage disposal, burned them, and discarded them in every manner he could think of. But still, day in and day out another would find its way into his sight, sending him into an unholy rage.
His teeth had ground themselves down so that there was a permanent grit in his mouth that he simply could not get rid of. This had to end sometime. She had to eventually give up.
Henry stared at the fresh one that had appeared stuck between the crevices in his living room window. The discolored face of the Page of Wands mocked him, as if daring him to be more creative with his refusal. He was running out of ideas. Nothing seemed to work. They still came back. Continue reading
There’s just something about those blondes.
Men lust after blondes. This is a simple fact, proven by centuries of literature and crass jokes on this very subject. What is not so simple is that blondes, much like beers, each come in unique flavors. The science of such of simplifying such a thing has been attempted by cosmetic companies in the form of hair dye, but the art is making them appealing enough to fly off the shelves. The simplest way to do that is through names. They try their hardest to sell blondes as food: honey blonde, strawberry blonde, wheat blonde, caramel. If its not food, its luxury: platinum, golden, champagne.
Blondes are flavors and money.
Secrets will be the death of him.
She was a little house mouse: with her straight brown hair and her unflattering dress. That was also brown, but I could never tell the difference between plaid, paisley, and floral. It was brown. All she ever wore was brown so that she could tell when there was a speck of flour or sugar and meticulously pick it off with her nervously chewed fingernails.
Frosty the Snowman got an upgrade.
He said that he would be back, and I thought at the time that it was just simple threats. Or I fooled myself into believing that the words of the truly mad were nothing but empty promises. For all intents and purposes he appeared gone, and I took small comfort in the fact that perhaps he was gone for good.
Here is a less than 200-word piece that is so completely innocuous and yet has gotten me in heaps of trouble because evidently it is ‘evangelism.’
“If you’re a witch,” the man said, “then make your glass move.” He indicated the glass to her left, which used to hold soda but now only ice. The restaurant was hardly a poor choice, but this attempted ‘blind date’ had left her rather with a sour taste in her mouth. Still, she refused to leave and let him feel that he’d made his point when she had her own to make.
I managed to win this year, despite deciding that I was only going to dedicate myself to a light month of writing instead of doing the full 1667 words a day (I ended up going more around… 3000 a day and finished technically on the 20th. You should all know by now that I never let a goal stop me). And this one I think might be worthy of handing out to publishers, so December WILL be spent editing the whole thing in one go. So if you see a copy of “Just Cast a Spell” by Lee Bradford floating around the paranormal romance section, that baby is mine! Pick it up, give it a read. Let this be the first of many!
A starving artist finds her inspiration
Magazines would tell you that my early work was my best; that the colors were more vibrant and my paintings more passionate. I suppose they’re right. That’s often the way it goes for independent artists such as myself: you make zero commission on the work you do as a young, bright-eyed student with a paintbrush and then once you’ve made a few dollars people look at your old work longingly, wishing they could hop into a time machine and snatch it up before it was the new ‘it’ thing. Oh, and they would LOVE to see your process. And they would LOVE to be able to sit in at your studio and watch you create these beautiful paintings.
And they would romanticize about your years in squalor, eating scraps and spending every red cent on supplies, stopping at nothing to create.
Two brothers go to a haunted house for a bit of Halloween fun and end up with more than they bargained for.
Ellisburgh had a haunted house that topped every commercial haunted house in the state. They pulled in actors and makeup artists from all over the county and assigned their talents to an old farmhouse from the 60′s. But for the entirety of October, it ceased to be a farmhouse and was transformed into the “Nine Circles of Hell” or “The Haunted Circus.” This being their tenth year running, they went with the classic “Haunted Mansion,” where they made the formerly modest abandoned home into an upscale estate complete with two-way mirrors and cotton cobwebs.
And James was in town.