The cowering inferno
On second thought, I'm going to put off any movie reviewing until the next post. Last weekend was insane. Demon alcohol, slush storms, sloppy gore, surprise guests, eggs with fruit in 'em, you name it. Some triumphs:
-My buddy Corinne introduced me to a fantastic wine on Friday. I don't remember what vineyard put the stuff in the bottle, but by the time we finished it, my brain maintained that it was from Argentina and of the malbec variety. It's dark red, not as heavy or dry as that might imply, and the aftertaste has a lot of little subflavors. Like my precise description, oenophiles? What the fuck do I know about wine? This one was very delicious, and it made sitting through a terrible movie much easier. I'm going to get at more of that malbec soon.
-Saturday afternoon, I joined an impressive throng of about 3,000 men, women and children at the Fangoria Weekend of Horrors. I had to park in a skeezy lot across the street because the hotel lot was full. It took forever to get in - by the time I did, they had sold out of auditorium seating, so I couldn't go in to watch the talks by personal hero Lloyd Kaufman or unadvertised guest Gary Sherman (director of cult favorites "Raw Meat" and "Dead & Buried"). It was $5 cheaper to get in because of this, and I could still do all the vendor-browsing, people-watching and Troma-worshipping I wanted. Before I was even in the door, I'd already seen Lloyd give a genial brush-off to David "The Rock" Nelson, so the wait didn't bother me too much. Once I got inside, Lloyd signed my copy of his excellent first book, exhorted me to praise it on Amazon and posed for a photo before handing me off to a sexy Tromette. He looked tired, but he's as "regular guy" as his image suggests. I bought a bunch of movies, some presents for the birthday kids I was about to visit and several beers. I killed some time by watching another lousy movie. My buddy Jorge took my picture with a couple of the Living Dead Girlz. Dee Snider smacked my shoulder in manly comraderie. It was cool.
-The drive from the hotel in Rosemont to the Hala Kahiki took half an hour, a trip that would have taken about ten minutes had the sky not been crapping freezing rain and slush. You couldn't see the lanes, cars were spun out on Mannheim Road, it was nuts. But I made it to the first celebration of the evening, delivered a pittance of a birthday present to my buddy Amy and tucked into a zombie, glad to be out of the muck. It was only then that I was warned of the impending presence of someone I have done my goddamnedest to avoid for the better part of two years. "Mixed feelings" doesn't really cover it. I mean, there are individuals I can do without, and there are individuals I will stay home to make sure I don't encounter. This young lady sadly resides at the top of the latter stack. Later, it struck me how curious it was that I had spent the afternoon reveling in the trappings of fictional horror, only to be suddenly confronted with very real fright. May I add that I had run out of St. John's Wort earlier in the week, and that I was now about to be sitting in the same room as the very person whose antics had inspired me to begin taking mood-enhancing herbs in the first place. And, of course, the month of March was in spitting distance. I was not prepared at all to be around her, and my first instinct was to bolt before she arrived. But that's the sort of shit the old me would do. I did not leave. I kept my seat, ordered another drink and prepared for the worst. In truth, it could have been much worse - she didn't try to talk to me, as I feared she would, and I was far enough away that I could get away with acting like I was pretending she wasn't there. Inside, it was a different story. My heart was thumping so hard and fast it gave me a headache. The zombie suddenly tasted too thick and sweet. Rather than give myself another reason to feel like vomiting, I ordered some water. The idea was to sip that for a while, clear my head and make a casual exit before I lost it and said something I shouldn't. The weather was awful, and I couldn't join the next party I was heading to until 1 a.m. unless I wanted to drive downtown through the blizzard, pay for parking and kill several hours at Dave & Buster's. I was considering heading to Kyle and Eden's place early and finishing the eighth "Preacher" book in my car, then maybe hitting that dive bar by their el stop and drinking like a madman. Ultimately, I lingered long enough that the group she came with headed off to their own next party, and that was that. My guts relaxed, my jaw loosened and I could breathe deeply again. I made it through a scenario I had long dreaded. I don't care if it's petty; the very thought of that woman still provokes a strong reaction in me, and I'm extremely proud of myself for not running or shrieking or passing out. I'm also very thankful that she was thoughtful enough to leave me alone on Saturday. And if only her mellifluous laughter hadn't floated its way into my ears again, I would be feeling really, really good right now.
-My old, old buddy Kyle's birthday bash was mostly over when I joined that gang for the pajama party portion of their day. They had already been out to the Windy City Rollers match and to the aforementioned D&B's, so they were as wiped as I felt. The second half of the man's Big 3-0 was planned as a sleepover and brunch, and I knew ahead of time that if I didn't make the sleepover, I wasn't going to make the brunch. This was good foresight on my part, because for some reason I had a lot of trouble falling asleep that night. Anyway, the brilliant brunch call was made for the Heartland Cafe, which as a suburbanite I have not visited enough. I had the menu open for about two seconds before I knew I had to order "Kate's Omelette," a good-looking lacto-ovo vegetarian dish. The omelette, filled with spinach and cream cheese, was perfect, although the cornbread was a little hard on Sunday. The birthday boy ordered a peach and cheddar omelette, and we traded bites. You know something? Eggs, cheese and peaches taste pretty good together.
I have a decent scheme to keep my wandering mind busy over the next month, and if it works out, you will not be wanting for updates here. See ya tomorrow, pardners.
-My buddy Corinne introduced me to a fantastic wine on Friday. I don't remember what vineyard put the stuff in the bottle, but by the time we finished it, my brain maintained that it was from Argentina and of the malbec variety. It's dark red, not as heavy or dry as that might imply, and the aftertaste has a lot of little subflavors. Like my precise description, oenophiles? What the fuck do I know about wine? This one was very delicious, and it made sitting through a terrible movie much easier. I'm going to get at more of that malbec soon.
-Saturday afternoon, I joined an impressive throng of about 3,000 men, women and children at the Fangoria Weekend of Horrors. I had to park in a skeezy lot across the street because the hotel lot was full. It took forever to get in - by the time I did, they had sold out of auditorium seating, so I couldn't go in to watch the talks by personal hero Lloyd Kaufman or unadvertised guest Gary Sherman (director of cult favorites "Raw Meat" and "Dead & Buried"). It was $5 cheaper to get in because of this, and I could still do all the vendor-browsing, people-watching and Troma-worshipping I wanted. Before I was even in the door, I'd already seen Lloyd give a genial brush-off to David "The Rock" Nelson, so the wait didn't bother me too much. Once I got inside, Lloyd signed my copy of his excellent first book, exhorted me to praise it on Amazon and posed for a photo before handing me off to a sexy Tromette. He looked tired, but he's as "regular guy" as his image suggests. I bought a bunch of movies, some presents for the birthday kids I was about to visit and several beers. I killed some time by watching another lousy movie. My buddy Jorge took my picture with a couple of the Living Dead Girlz. Dee Snider smacked my shoulder in manly comraderie. It was cool.
-The drive from the hotel in Rosemont to the Hala Kahiki took half an hour, a trip that would have taken about ten minutes had the sky not been crapping freezing rain and slush. You couldn't see the lanes, cars were spun out on Mannheim Road, it was nuts. But I made it to the first celebration of the evening, delivered a pittance of a birthday present to my buddy Amy and tucked into a zombie, glad to be out of the muck. It was only then that I was warned of the impending presence of someone I have done my goddamnedest to avoid for the better part of two years. "Mixed feelings" doesn't really cover it. I mean, there are individuals I can do without, and there are individuals I will stay home to make sure I don't encounter. This young lady sadly resides at the top of the latter stack. Later, it struck me how curious it was that I had spent the afternoon reveling in the trappings of fictional horror, only to be suddenly confronted with very real fright. May I add that I had run out of St. John's Wort earlier in the week, and that I was now about to be sitting in the same room as the very person whose antics had inspired me to begin taking mood-enhancing herbs in the first place. And, of course, the month of March was in spitting distance. I was not prepared at all to be around her, and my first instinct was to bolt before she arrived. But that's the sort of shit the old me would do. I did not leave. I kept my seat, ordered another drink and prepared for the worst. In truth, it could have been much worse - she didn't try to talk to me, as I feared she would, and I was far enough away that I could get away with acting like I was pretending she wasn't there. Inside, it was a different story. My heart was thumping so hard and fast it gave me a headache. The zombie suddenly tasted too thick and sweet. Rather than give myself another reason to feel like vomiting, I ordered some water. The idea was to sip that for a while, clear my head and make a casual exit before I lost it and said something I shouldn't. The weather was awful, and I couldn't join the next party I was heading to until 1 a.m. unless I wanted to drive downtown through the blizzard, pay for parking and kill several hours at Dave & Buster's. I was considering heading to Kyle and Eden's place early and finishing the eighth "Preacher" book in my car, then maybe hitting that dive bar by their el stop and drinking like a madman. Ultimately, I lingered long enough that the group she came with headed off to their own next party, and that was that. My guts relaxed, my jaw loosened and I could breathe deeply again. I made it through a scenario I had long dreaded. I don't care if it's petty; the very thought of that woman still provokes a strong reaction in me, and I'm extremely proud of myself for not running or shrieking or passing out. I'm also very thankful that she was thoughtful enough to leave me alone on Saturday. And if only her mellifluous laughter hadn't floated its way into my ears again, I would be feeling really, really good right now.
-My old, old buddy Kyle's birthday bash was mostly over when I joined that gang for the pajama party portion of their day. They had already been out to the Windy City Rollers match and to the aforementioned D&B's, so they were as wiped as I felt. The second half of the man's Big 3-0 was planned as a sleepover and brunch, and I knew ahead of time that if I didn't make the sleepover, I wasn't going to make the brunch. This was good foresight on my part, because for some reason I had a lot of trouble falling asleep that night. Anyway, the brilliant brunch call was made for the Heartland Cafe, which as a suburbanite I have not visited enough. I had the menu open for about two seconds before I knew I had to order "Kate's Omelette," a good-looking lacto-ovo vegetarian dish. The omelette, filled with spinach and cream cheese, was perfect, although the cornbread was a little hard on Sunday. The birthday boy ordered a peach and cheddar omelette, and we traded bites. You know something? Eggs, cheese and peaches taste pretty good together.
I have a decent scheme to keep my wandering mind busy over the next month, and if it works out, you will not be wanting for updates here. See ya tomorrow, pardners.
posted by SoulReaper at 8:28 AM
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