Stephen Mark Rainey's Blog, page 29

More Discoveries

I never thought I would grow weary of finding keepsakes from days of yore, but the sheer number of keepsakes kept at the old homestead has about done me in. Some of them, at least, are absolutely agreeable, especially the occasional old photo I didn't know (or had forgotten) existed, lots of half-forgotten toys, and scads of my artwork. I turned up a couple more pen & ink drawings from the late 80s/early 90s, which you see above. The critter is Gaira from War of the Gargantuas, my favorite of Toho's non-Godzilla daikaiju flicks. The haunted house is a place my brother and I happened upon while exploring the wilds of Henry County back around 1991. I took quite a few photos of the creepy old place and then made a drawing of it.

I'm reasonably fond of these, so I appreciated actually seeing them again. I remembered them, but I had no idea where they lurked or whether I'd ever see them again. So... yay!

Yours Sincerely, Wasting Away

I guess you could call it a landmark birthday, basically by way of a Beatles song. That look of the dude in the photo is when your body turns 64 but the rest of you is something like half that. That's the lord's truth.

It was a pretty pleasant day, which helped blunt some of the stress I bitched, moaned, and whine about about in my previous blog entry. Geocaching on my birthday is a longstanding tradition, so I headed solo over Burlington way to pick up an even ten that have lurking over there for a little while now. Some of them were considerably more than a walk in the park, so I had a nice time of it. On a somewhat sad note, my old friend and longtime geocaching partner Old Rob is more than a little under the weather, and it has the potential to remain an issue for some time to come. I'm sending out every good wish for him, and I hope you will to, whether you know him or not. He's several years older than I, but I remember like it was yesterday when he turned 64 and placed a geocache titled after that same Beatles song. I believe it's still out there in the wild, so it's almost tempting — almost, I say — to revisit it for old times' sake. I've been revisiting quite a few older caches lately, some of my own to perform maintenance, and some others just for the sake of hiking.

After Brugger got off work the afternoon, we ventured over to State Street Wine Company for a few celebratory drinks. It's become one of our primary go-to establishments since it's so close to home and the folks there are very personable. Rather than go out to dinner (we have dining-out plans with friends Terry & Beth and Joe & Suzy on tomorrow night), Brugger and I made Thai spring rolls, which was my dinner request. They were awesome.

All in all, a mellow day, and under the circumstances, that was just what the doctor ordered. We'll see how it goes in the coming days and weeks. Peace out.

A Perfect Storm

A much-needed evening oasis at friend Samaire’s place
Sigh. I was going to sit here and elaborate on how stressful andeven traumatic some of the snowballing issues that have beset Brugger and meover the past month or so have been (I did, in fact, compose a considerablenumber of words on the subject). I deleted the bulk of them because it all beganto sound like a great big whine. Still, I can’t help it; here is a bit of thatpost, abridged.
For me, April has historically been the worst month in existence, since it’s in April that I lost my dad, more good friends than the law ought to allow, and the majority of my many beloved pets. Beyond that, it’s in April that the universe, with perverse glee, releases the storm of misfortune it has saved up for us over the course of the preceding year with a great big “BLAM!”
This year, the horrendous sewer line issues that hit us, beginning in March (of which some of you are at least aware, since I did whine a bit), seemed to set off a veritable freight train of new and damn near catastrophically expensive issues.
However, as I wrote this little treatise, it all began to sound like a big whine. Now, on occasion (sometimes on frequent occasions), I have been known to vent. Anyone who has heard me vent will almost certainly testify that, to the chronic pessimist, my vent is a thing of rare beauty. Conversely, to the blissful live-for-today-first-world-problems-mean-naught-zen-is-good kind of soul (or simply the uninitiated), more a display of explosive horror (or perhaps amusement, in the way that a spectacular self-inflicted injury can make one chuckle). All that said, there is little more I hate than coming across as a fucking crybaby. Life can be a goddamn bitch, and I know damn well that many, MANY folks would trade places with me in an instant. I’m not without some degree of self-awareness.
Still, in the spirit of my original post, suffice it to say that I’m gonna call this April a pilgrimage to the summit of Fuck-This-Goddamn-Motherfucking-Bullshit-Fucking-What-the-Fuckity-Fuck Mountain. To the more level-headed, even-tempered souls among you (however deluded you might be), this was a mere uptick in the severity of pretty-damned-severe first-world problems.
There were good things. In fact, many good things. Most recently, Scares That Care AuthorCon II was one of the best events ever, as far as affirming my life choices as a writer. Similarly, Shortwave Publishing announced what I feel is one of the most important creative projects I’ve overseen, the next chapter in the history of Deathrealm, a brainchild of mine from almost four decades ago. I sold a couple of short stories. And this April saw some lovely times with good, GOOD friends, which helped me realign my sights on what’s really important.
Well, okay, yeah, I’ve still whined (and I’ll do it again, maybe soon). But this one is fucking done. At least April is, until next year, history.

Monstrous! Part 2 ��� Night of the Firebeast, 1979���1983

Yesterday, I wrote a bit about some of my old artwork I turned up while turning my old homestead inside out for renovations ( Monstrous! Part 1 ��� The Ultimate Godzilla [or Not] ). If you were willing to slog through that, I reckon you might be willing to slog through this as well.

In the early 1970s, I composed a silly but fun little SF monster story called ���Night of the Firebeast,��� which featured a giant winged reptilian critter (see illo above) from the planet Venus called Damiron (or Damarron, in at least one of the tale���s numerous revisions). I drew a ton of pictures of the monster, and friend Bill Gudmundson, who regularly constructed detailed, articulated models (and animated them, �� la Ray Harryhausen), built a couple of different versions of Damiron for me. I still have one of those models, a bit worse for wear, but still holding together.

In my final year of college (1981), having discovered the writings of H.P. Lovecraft ��� and by now entertaining grandiose notions of becoming a famous horror writer ��� I rewrote ���Night of the Firebeast��� as a weird hybrid of daikaiju and Lovecraftian lore, still featuring Damiron but under the name ���Pachacutec��� (the actual name of a Peruvian king, which I considered apt, since the story was now set in Peru). I went full bore illustrating scenes from it, mostly in pen and ink. Although the tale was hardly the masterpiece I had envisioned in my budding little brain, it felt pretty solid (and at some much later time ��� early 2000s, I believe ��� I sent a copy of the tale to J.D. Lees, editor of G-Fan magazine, who up and published the thing). ���Pachacutec��� became the first chapter of my first honest-to-god novel, again titled ���Night of the Firebeast,��� which I finished in 1983 ��� just after I moved to Chicago to live with Bill G. The novel rightly never saw the light of day, but I have long considered it a valuable practice run for my novels that eventually did come to fruition.

In later years (2006), Pachacutec appeared again in a short story, this one entitled ���The Transformer of Worlds,��� published in an Australian anthology of giant monster stories, simply titled Daikaiju, edited by Rob Hood.

Again, for the sake of future history ��� if any ��� I am posting the complete set of drawings and paintings I created for Night of the Firebeast, if not for your entertainment then for mine, as I do find these personal chronicles useful for looking back to figure out what the hell I was thinking at any given point in time. These are pretty much in the order of events in the novel, so feel free to draw your own conclusions regarding the context. I don���t have it in me to compose a synopsis for the old beast; as it is, I���m not sure I could even remember, as these go back forty years and more. Click on these little fellows to enlarge.

Please note that I warned you yesterday that this might happen!

Monstrous! Part 2 — Night of the Firebeast, 1979–1983

Yesterday, I wrote a bit about some of my old artwork I turned up while turning my old homestead inside out for renovations ( Monstrous! Part 1 — The Ultimate Godzilla [or Not] ). If you were willing to slog through that, I reckon you might be willing to slog through this as well.

In the early 1970s, I composed a silly but fun little SF monster story called “Night of the Firebeast,” which featured a giant winged reptilian critter (see illo above) from the planet Venus called Damiron (or Damarron, in at least one of the tale’s numerous revisions). I drew a ton of pictures of the monster, and friend Bill Gudmundson, who regularly constructed detailed, articulated models (and animated them, à la Ray Harryhausen), built a couple of different versions of Damiron for me. I still have one of those models, a bit worse for wear, but still holding together.

In my final year of college (1981), having discovered the writings of H.P. Lovecraft — and by now entertaining grandiose notions of becoming a famous horror writer — I rewrote “Night of the Firebeast” as a weird hybrid of daikaiju and Lovecraftian lore, still featuring Damiron but under the name “Pachacutec” (the actual name of a Peruvian king, which I considered apt, since the story was now set in Peru). I went full bore illustrating scenes from it, mostly in pen and ink. Although the tale was hardly the masterpiece I had envisioned in my budding little brain, it felt pretty solid (and at some much later time — early 2000s, I believe — I sent a copy of the tale to J.D. Lees, editor of G-Fan magazine, who up and published the thing). “Pachacutec” became the first chapter of my first honest-to-god novel, again titled “Night of the Firebeast,” which I finished in 1983 — just after I moved to Chicago to live with Bill G. The novel rightly never saw the light of day, but I have long considered it a valuable practice run for my novels that eventually did come to fruition.

In later years (2006), Pachacutec appeared again in a short story, this one entitled “The Transformer of Worlds,” published in an Australian anthology of giant monster stories, simply titled Daikaiju, edited by Rob Hood.

Again, for the sake of future history — if any — I am posting the complete set of drawings and paintings I created for Night of the Firebeast, if not for your entertainment then for mine, as I do find these personal chronicles useful for looking back to figure out what the hell I was thinking at any given point in time. These are pretty much in the order of events in the novel, so feel free to draw your own conclusions regarding the context. I don’t have it in me to compose a synopsis for the old beast; as it is, I’m not sure I could even remember, as these go back forty years and more. Click on these little fellows to enlarge.

Please note that I warned you yesterday that this might happen!

Monstrous! Part 1 ��� The Ultimate Godzilla (or Not)

As Ms. Brugger and I continue our renovation of the old homestead in Martinsville, we continually dig up intriguing relics from the days of yore ��� well, my yore, anyway. Tucked away in the corners of the house, I have scads of old art portfolios, and this morning, I came upon several pieces I haven���t seen in years. I knew these beasties lurked up in the attic, as I have periodically excavated some of the ruins, but seeing them again brought a lovely onslaught of nostalgia for all things daikaiju.

In junior high school, I created Japanese Giants, a fanzine devoted to Godzilla, kith & kin, more or less patterned after my dear, late friend Greg Shoemaker���s renowned Japanese Fantasy Film Journal. For me, Japanese Giants was a one-shot, but the title lived on, first via editor/publisher Brad Boyle, who took the reins until issue #4, and then by way of friends Ed Godziszewski and Bill Gudmundson, who kept the magazine going for several years into the 21st Century.

By high school, I had grandiose plans of becoming a writer/illustrator, and sometime in my senior year ��� 1976 or 1977 ��� I drew up a few pages of what I considered the ultimate Godzilla story. However, around that time, I found myself increasingly distracted by young women of the opposite sex, and my dream project never progressed beyond that initial sample.

For the sake of future history ��� if any ��� here it is. Later, if you���re not really good, I���ll post a bit about my other ancient original daikaiju endeavor, Night of the Firebeast. So you just watch yourselves.

Monstrous! Part 1 — The Ultimate Godzilla (or Not)

As Ms. Brugger and I continue our renovation of the old homestead in Martinsville, we continually dig up intriguing relics from the days of yore — well, my yore, anyway. Tucked away in the corners of the house, I have scads of old art portfolios, and this morning, I came upon several pieces I haven’t seen in years. I knew these beasties lurked up in the attic, as I have periodically excavated some of the ruins, but seeing them again brought a lovely onslaught of nostalgia for all things daikaiju.

In junior high school, I created Japanese Giants, a fanzine devoted to Godzilla, kith & kin, more or less patterned after my dear, late friend Greg Shoemaker’s renowned Japanese Fantasy Film Journal. For me, Japanese Giants was a one-shot, but the title lived on, first via editor/publisher Brad Boyle, who took the reins until issue #4, and then by way of friends Ed Godziszewski and Bill Gudmundson, who kept the magazine going for several years into the 21st Century.

By high school, I had grandiose plans of becoming a writer/illustrator, and sometime in my senior year — 1976 or 1977 — I drew up a few pages of what I considered the ultimate Godzilla story. However, around that time, I found myself increasingly distracted by young women of the opposite sex, and my dream project never progressed beyond that initial sample.

For the sake of future history — if any — here it is. Later, if you’re not really good, I’ll post a bit about my other ancient original daikaiju endeavor, Night of the Firebeast. So you just watch yourselves.

Monstrous!

As Ms. Brugger and I continue our renovation of the old homestead in Martinsville, we continually dig up intriguing relics from the days of yore — well, my yore, anyway. Tucked away in the corners of the house, I have scads of old art portfolios, and this morning, I came upon several pieces I haven’t seen in years. I knew these beasties lurked up in the attic, as I have periodically excavated some of the ruins, but seeing them again brought a lovely onslaught of nostalgia for all things daikaiju.

In junior high school, I created Japanese Giants, a fanzine devoted to Godzilla, kith & kin, more or less patterned after my dear, late friend Greg Shoemaker’s renowned Japanese Fantasy Film Journal. For me, Japanese Giants was a one-shot, but the title lived on, first via editor/publisher Brad Boyle, who took the reins until issue #4, and then by way of friends Ed Godziszewski and Bill Gudmundson, who kept the magazine going for several years into the 21st Century.

By high school, I had grandiose plans of becoming a writer/illustrator, and sometime in my senior year, I drew up a few pages of what I considered the ultimate Godzilla story (see illos below). However, around that time, I found myself increasingly distracted by young women of the opposite sex, and my dream project never progressed beyond that initial sample. Still, somewhere in those years, I composed a fun little SF monster story called “Night of the Firebeast,” which featured a giant winged reptilian critter (see illo above) from the planet Venus called Damiron (or Damarron, in at least one of the tale’s numerous revisions). I drew a ton of pictures of the monster, and friend Bill Gudmundson, who regularly constructed detailed, articulated models (and animated them, à la Ray Harryhausen), built a couple of different versions of Damiron for me. I still have one of those models, a bit worse for wear, but still holding together. In college, having discovered the writings of H.P. Lovecraft — and by now entertaining grandiose notions of becoming a famous horror writer — I rewrote “Night of the Firebeast” as a weird hybrid of daikaiju and Lovecraftian lore, still featuring Damiron but under the name “Pachacutec” (the actual name of a Peruvian king, which I considered apt, since the story was now set in Peru). I went full bore illustrating scenes from it, mostly in pen and ink. Although the tale was hardly the masterpiece I had envisioned in my budding little brain, it felt pretty solid (and at some point — early 2000s, I believe — I sent a copy of the tale to J.D. Lees, editor of G-Fan magazine, who up and published the thing). “Pachacutec” became the first chapter of my first honest-to-god novel, again titled “Night of the Firebeast,” which I finished a year or so post-college — just after I moved to Chicago to live with Bill G. The novel, such as it was, never saw the light of day, but I consider it a valuable practice run for my novels that eventually did come to fruition.

In later years, Pachacutec appeared again in a short story, this one entitled “The Transformer of Worlds,” published in an Australian anthology of giant monster stories, simply titled Daikaiju, edited by Rob Hood.

If I get a chance, I'll photograph and post the complete set of drawings and paintings I created for “Pachacutec,” if not for your entertainment then for mine, as I do find these personal chronicles useful for looking back to figure out what the hell I was thinking at any given point in time.

Beware!

Dark Corners of the Old Dominion

I’m pretty excited about this one! My new short story, “Doom at Dragon’s Roost,” will be appearing in Dark Corners of the Old Dominion  in the fall of this year. Edited by Joseph Maddrey and Michael Rook and published by Death Knell Press , Dark Corners is an anthology of stories set in Virginia, the proceeds of which will go to the Scares That Care charity organization. Author Brian Keene, who heads up the wonderful  Scares That Care AuthorCon event, provides the foreword. Check out Dark Corners of the
Old Dominion here.

I���m Getting Too Old for This Shit

After the horrors of broken sewer lines, hellishly expensive reparations, and restoration done improperly (which the provider must address) at our primary residence in Greensboro, Ms. B. and I have taken on a whole new, somewhat unexpected endeavor: restoring my old homestead in Virginia to livable and/or salable condition, since the issues mentioned above have necessitated the selling of property.

Before dementia crippled Mom���s cognitive abilities, as a housekeeper, she was beyond conscientious. The house always appeared immaculate, and she took care of its routine maintenance to the best of her ability. Still, she was either unaware of, or unable to address, some of the larger issues that beset the house over a long period of time. The place dates back to the mid-1950s, and a remarkable number of the house���s appliances, fixtures, and systems are original. Well, were, considering that Ms. B. and I have set about the updating with a vengeance.

Currently, the interior is a mess, as this overhaul is no trivial matter. I never realized that my mom was an honest-to-god, card-carrying pack rat, for there is virtually no corner of this outwardly immaculate house that doesn���t conceal miles of piles of stuff. Massive amounts of that stuff have gone to meet their maker or been set aside for an estate sale; but after days and days and days of clearing things out, the piles don���t appear very much smaller. Plus, we���re having all the walls dewallpapered and painted, the kitchen and baths totally redone, and the wall-to-wall carpets removed, for there is gorgeous hardwood hiding underneath. The plumbing was older than Noah���s ark, so we���ve had the waterworks redone ��� and just in the nick of time, as some of those old pipes were on the verge of giving up the ghost and flooding the earth.

We���ve still got a ways to go, and I can tell you, I am thoroughly exhausted. It all sort of reminds me that I might not be as young as all that anymore. On the other hand, when it comes down to it, I���m faring better than an awful lot of far younger whippersnappers, so y���all just watch yourselves, or I might hang around a while longer. You may take that to the bank.