George Romero and zombies in general,,A man of a thousand faces,Aleister Crowley,John Carpenter,absinthe,werewolves everywhere,The Green Manalishi,Dazed and confused,Gris-Gris Gumbo ya ya,Baudelaire,Poe,The Ring,The Thing from another world,The Yeti in the Underground,Vlad the Impaler,Mad Bob,Dennis Hopper,Spooks,Hammer House of Horror,Bela lugosi,Freaks,The Wicker Man,Green slime,H.R.Gieger,Flesh for Frankenstein,Blood for Dracula,Joe Dallesandro,Suicide,Dario Argento,Hieronymous Bosch,Scoobie Doo,Dali,Vincent Price,Theatre of Blood,Roger Corman,The Mummy,Heart of Darkness,Doors of Perception heaven and Hell,His Dark Materials,The Wasp Factory,Black Sabbath,
Remember the site we saw,my soul,that fine,mild,summer morning:round a turning in the path a disgusting carcass on a bed scattered with stones.Its legs in the air like a woman on heat.,burning and sweating poisons,was displaying,in casual and shameless fashion,its belly,full of noxious vapours.The sun was shining on that mass of rotteness as if to cook it to perfection,and to give back a hundredfold to great nature all that she had joined together;And heaven watched the splendid carcass unfolding like a flower.The stench was so strong that you thought you would faint right there,on the grass.The flies were buzzing on that putrid belly,from which issued black battalions of larvae,flowing like a thick liquid along those living rags.The whole mass fell and rose like a wave,or erupted in sparkling foam;you would have said that the body,filled with some mysterious breath,was living and multiplying.And this world was emitting a strange music,like running water and wind,or a grain which a winnower with a rhythmic movement shakes and turns in his winnowing -basket.The shapes were fading and were now only a dream,a sketch slow to take shape on the forgotten canvas,which the artist completes only in his memory.Behind the rocks a restless bitch was watching us with restless eyes,waiting for the moment to reclaim from the skeleton the titbit she had left behind.
Charles Baudelaire.
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there from the twin towers above her head fumed the very last of Fred, a thin steam of grey smoke from the ovens. People passing up the flowery suburban road looked up and noted the smoke; it had been a busy day at the furnaces. Fred dropped in indistinguishable grey ash on the pink blossoms: he became part of the smoke nuisance over London
Popped into the library today as part of my mission to minister to the poor of this parish. Unfortunately the librarian had been eaten by the Loch Ness Monster, who'd lost his way owing to that dodgy SatNav system you flogged him. I'm now standing in until they can find a permanent replacement. I'm using the time to memorise Venus in Furs, in order to impress that senior judge, who has a regular appointment for a spot of chastisement every other Tuesday. See you in the dungeon next week x
yaaahoo, auntie horror, two soups!! me in newcastle being flung out of trees, very hectic, was swinging nat from crane last week, will conect with you on site with me latest tuuunes soon dude, great to conect on this, lots of love darling Hami.....jym
