children of the night...

... yes, they/we make (beautiful) music, tho we can't hear them here in the city & we're not children & i'm not really of the night, rather poised between love of dawn & dusk & nighttime & morning, depending on the mercury of my moods... anyways, we in this houselet love love love monsters, tho he prefers lugosi, the strong, fierce, suffering junkie & me, karloff, the polite, saturnine, suffering-seeming gentleman... i just was looking up quotes from the lugosi dracula & realized i have many favorites. here are some: Count Dracula: For one who has not lived even a single lifetime, you're a wise man, Van Helsing. Renfield: No, no, master. I wasn't going to say anything, I told them nothing. I am loyal to you master. Count Dracula: Listen to them. Children of the night. What music they make. Renfield: God will not damn a poor lunatic's soul. He knows that the powers of evil are too great for those with weak minds. Count Dracula: There are far worse things awaiting man than death. Renfield: Isn't this a strange conversation, for people who aren't crazy? (and, of course, since i haven't drank alcohol in such a long long time:) Count Dracula: I never drink wine... ... we're kids of the late 60s-early 70s, the 1st era of an openly schizophrenic mix of sweet & horrifying (peanuts & family affair to the 1st war to be broadcast, uncommercialized & unexpurgated, on primetime), so i especially liked this thing he posted yesterday on facebook: ... this week we all go to knotts scary farm/halloween haunt, the "greatest haunted house halloween spook show in the nation," which they've gone to many times but i, supplanted central californio, never have. i can't wait to get the sh*t scared out of me!! now time to make another pot of joe & wake the monster amazing & everyday & awesome...

el vente malo

it's whipping & crashing & swirling outside, crazy & violent & scary... there are songs about wind, but the ones that most sound like THIS wind would have to be smashing, thundering messes like the birthday party/nick cave: "release the bats" or "tupelo"... yes, shakespeare's witch pricked her thumb & meant macbeth when she said it, but when the whistling, moaning wind storms down the mountainside & bashes into my house, i think of haunting & madness, the headless horseman coming for ichabod crane, devils, things that knock at the walls, monsters trying to get in, & i shiver: "something wicked this way comes." the wind blows here w/pure fury, w/such greater violence than i recall in bakersfield, as if it's meting out punishment. this can't be mere weather, my magic magnifying mind tells me: this just can't be good; so i hide in bed w/covers wrapped over my head, like when i was a kid & suffocated myself under blankets so dracula wouldn't kill me while i slept.
the wind brought poe mourning, "killing & chilling" his annabelle lee (actually, that line referred to tb or consumption, i think)... but this wind, blasting & shaking & sighing & screaming, even, doesn't make me sad; it just scares the crap out of me.
i know soon, tho not as soon as i'd like, morning will come, the sun will rise, the birds will leave hiding & frolic & chirp & flutter at my window in their lovely way, & blessed day will bring reprieve, relief, return to sanity for both the skies & for me.
stupid wind. i hate you!!! soon you'll be gone, & i'll be happy.