Creepy Kids' Halloween Costumes, circa 1950

My favorite is holiday is Halloween. Easily. When I was a kid, we had a trunk in the garage where we kept all of our Halloween decorations. Around early September, I started asking my parents about when we could open up the so-called Halloween Chest. Once October rolled around, I would proceed to go crazy with the spider webs, scream mats, kooky skeletons and whatever else I found in there. I even convinced my Dad to construct an animatronic Frankenstein, Witch, Dracula and zip-line Ghost, allowing us to scare children all over the tri-county area. Sure, I got excited about other holidays too. Like other kids, I spent Christmas Eve intermittently waking up every few hours in anticipation of opening presents. Easter was exciting too I suppose. Thanksgiving - well, I never had much of an appetite in those days. Really, nothing came close to the colossal sense of excitement I got from Halloween. The seasonal TV specials on hauntings, witch burnings and urban legends filled me with a zest for life that perplexed everyone I knew.

Unfortunately, I was not born in the 1950s. If I was born in this decade, I could have worn super creepy costumes that would have terrified my adult self. I suppose we all yearn for decades we never actually lived in. This apparently is a common affliction of my generation (see: NY Times article about how no one lives in the "now"). I guess recognizing the problem is the first step towards recovery. Or not.

And now: a collection of photographs from Halloweens of yesteryear that are sure to stick in your subconscious.

Whatever you do, don't look into her eyes.

And this is not ominous. Not one little bit.

Shortly after this photograph was taken, someone died. Probably a mailman or something.

Sweet dreams, y'all.

David Sedaris reads Miranda July

If that the combination of words above made your eyes get big, well, you're a huge nerd, just like me.


Sedaris pretty much nails the delivery of the story because he and Miranda July are secret psychic soul mates or something. The story itself is over at about the fifteen minute mark, but I strongly recommend listening to his comments about the story at the end.

If you haven't seen any of Miranda July's films (Me and You and Everyone We Know, The Future), shame on you. And if you call her work "twee" or "weird" then...well, you'd actually be right about those things. But you'd be missing the bigger picture.

Miranda July's best work takes on the banality of human existence - all the awkwardness, all the weirdness and turns it into something strangely endearing. She's a true artist; not merely a filmmaker, writer, or performance artist - whatever that really means. Most importantly, she's a true original without equal in today's popular culture.

And now, Miranda July, doing what she does best - making you feel uncomfortable.

An extension of greeting from my hand to yours

Hello all.

This is my blog. I will try not to inundate all of you with the weekly progress of my baby bump, post about the color and shape of my daily bowel movements, write meandering diatribes on my very repetitive and pedestrian (yet still very Freudian) dreams or upload endless pictures of my fourteen children. Really, I make no promises as far as content. One thing that pretty much everyone on the internet struggles with is sharing too much of themselves. Daily perusings of your Facebook feed will attest to this fact. We all feel alone in this world. The internet makes us temporarily feel less alone. Really, it makes us simultaneously connected but alienated (all the while making us extraordinarily unhappy). And mostly, it keeps us from being in the moment. And being in the moment is what life is really about. Every time you get bored in public and open up the browser on your smart phone, every time you think about a past event or a potential future happiness when you're having a conversation with someone, every time you watch another episode of Downton Abbey instead of going out and actually participating in the world, put a penny in a jar. Then count those pennies over the course of a week. Guess what? You'll have a lot of pennies. Maybe enough for a pizza party with friends. Maybe enough for a trip to Bermuda, who knows. And yes, I struggle with this stuff as much as anyone. What can I say? Life is hard, dudes.

But I digress.

The purpose of this space is to tell stories. And I mean that in the broadest and truest sense of the word. This means other people's stories will be told, but my own will certainly come into play (as one inevitably informs the other). Posts will include, but will be not limited to, my thoughts on music, film, television, literature, current events and so on and so forth. Also: random things I find on the internet that scare me, because I'm a morbid bastard.

So come sit around the campfire. I'll tell you a story or two.

Death Park, New Jersey

I love amusement parks. Always have. I can remember losing my mind just about anytime I went to one when I was a kid. The rides provide a real sense of being in danger so you are scared out of your mind but always know in the back of the head that there is no way that you could really get hurt.

It's funny, because people do get hurt at these parks. And of course, some people die. I would venture to say that 99 percent of the time it's because they did something incredibly stupid that put themselves in harm's way. It's usually a case of someone not wearing a seat belt or standing up or trying to change seats mid-ride. It goes without saying that most people know it's not a good idea to do any of the above. The parks know it too and enforce these rules to the best of their ability. A ride that causes a death is a huge liability, and amusement parks want nothing less than a perfect safety record for their guests.

But of course, there are exceptions to this rule.

Once in a blue moon, you'll hear about a place like "Death Park," A.K.A. Action Park. Open 1978 to 1996, the summertime alter-ego of the Great Gorge Ski Resort claimed the lives of at least six people and caused countless injuries during its run. The DIY approach to a water park featured a frequently intoxicated staff and dare-devil New Jersey teenagers from low-income families looking for an alternative to the more expensive parks in the area.

Deaths included:

• Three drownings in the Tidal Wave Pool.
• Electrocution on the Kayak Experience ride.
• A fatal head injury on the Alpine Slide.
• A heart attack supposedly induced by the shock of the cold water in the Tarzan Swing pool.

Here's a clip where of the park in action, courtesy of Headbanger's Ball (and featuring Alice in Chains((!)))

And here's the infamous looping water slide below. Test dummies sent down the slide would frequently be found decapitated. An escape hatch had to be installed at the top of the loop because those brave enough to try would rarely make it all the way down.

Now under new management (these days it goes by Mountain Creek Waterpark), the risk of electric shock by exposed wiring at the Kayak Experience is presumably reduced. For the sake of the children of New Jersey, we can only hope so.