A Strange Trip (a year on the road with StrangeHouse)

What a strange trip it's been...

I met Kevin Strange through one of his short films “Dead Shit” years ago. I can't tell you what year it was, because I can't track time very well, or do math for that matter, but it was a cold day. That means, it was sometime between November and February, and I may still be wrong about that.

When I heard that someone in our shit-hole collection of towns and rundown city landscapes was making Troma-like films, I felt a little spark of life. Through a friend of a friend I wound up being a Steak-n-Shake zombie, and I had a blast. On that cold November-through-February day, I had no idea that some years later, Kevin and myself would be running a business together.

While Kevin continued to build his Hack Movies empire, I was still working in music. Our little band from a small town ended up creating two beautiful albums, and I eventually went on to deal with a small record label and work on a solo stint that ended like most dreams do. That is by taking all your money and leaving you without so much as a word. The studio work I'd done was great, the songs were the best I'd ever done, but none of that mattered. The record label sold out and shut down. Boom. Nothing. Nada.

Although, while there I did meet some very influential people. Through Glen and Gary McCoy (The Flying McCoys) I met Rich Moyer, an animator that we wanted to hire to create a video for a song of mine called “ A Poem of Bullets.” Rich was a swell dude, and through some of our conversations I ended up telling him about a movie idea I had called Beer Run of the Dead.

He liked it. He asked if I had a script he could show people.

“Sure”, I said, lying through my teeth. “Let me get that to you in a couple of weeks.”

I spent those next two weeks writing the 140 page script that became Beer Run of the Dead. With the help and input of Rich I did a couple rewrites and hoped to god almighty morphin' power rangers, that something miraculous would happen.

It did not.

So as some time passed, I found myself in somewhat of a quagmire, directionless for the first time in a decade. I knew I could write, I knew I could do music and art and tell a story, so I went to the final frontier. I began dabbling in film and short fiction.

It was then, somewhere in this limbo that I began talking to Kevin again. Apparently, we'd both been going through the same thing. We were both leaving long stints with a certain media and trekking into prospective new grounds.

Joking one day, Kevin said, “Why don't we start a race to see who's fiction gets rejected the most.”

And the race went on, until the November of 2011 I think. And that's when Kevin said he'd been looking into starting a publishing house. Signing ourselves and other authors, creating some of the craziest fiction and art the Midwest has seen and building a big, scary Strange House.

Knowing the guy was a fierce artist, knowing that he didn't give up and would sleep in a cave to create his work, I felt an immediate kinship and said, “Take all my money. I'm in!”

And now here we are, a year later with almost 10 books available, beautiful and bizarre art, and a heap of shows under our a belt.

When I look back to that November and talking about building this thing, it's extremely funny to me. First off, I'd never been to a horror convention before. I didn't even know that kind of thing existed.

“You mean to tell me there's a comic con for horror fans, where it's Halloween everyday, and people get drunk and party and dance in costume like we somehow found a rave in hell? Oh God yes, take me to that place.”

Kevin Strange just gone and popped my cherry. I was instantly addicted.

There are just too many little stories to fill up in one blog about a year on the road. I mean until you do a ton of these things it just doesn't really begin to set in how utterly surreal it is. Besides the vendors and all the memorabilia, and artists and collectables, almost every show usually has a celebrity or two. Sometimes a ton of celebs.

Shit gets ridiculous.

In the last year I've almost elbowed Norman Reedus from the Walking Dead. He's such a tiny, handsome man, and as I was outside smoking a cigarette, I turned and almost caught the fellow in the face. Instead of him being a dick, we had a nice short conversation about when they were going to give him some more action on the Walking Dead, to which he replied with his melodic accent. “I can't say, they just pay me and I do stuff.”

I've seen Ron Jeremy playing Chopin on piano. Then he kissed my girlfriend on the cheek, and while she was horrified, I laughed and laughed. I get to take that wonderful moment to my grave.

I met John Russo (a writer and one of the creators of Night of the Living Dead) and talked shop with him for some time. I eventually gave the guy a copy of my book Scary Fucking Stories. He told me bluntly that people give him stuff all the time and he probably wouldn't get to read it. Which was fine by me, I told the guy that it was a gift of appreciation, that his work was a big influence on me and he could throw it away and poop on it if he wanted. A couple weeks later, Kevin called me up and said we got a letter in our P.O. Box from Russo. The guy sent me a letter, encouraging my writing and success. A moment that is still to this day, very surreal to me.

There have been strippers dressed as dinosaurs, blood drenched furries, Jasons and Freddies, drunken storm troopers and weed smoking zombies, grim reaper nazis on stilts and so much, much more.

It's been a crazy year. Crazy good, with ups and downs and horrific roller coasters and too much vodka and hotel rooms, a blur of cities and road trips and pizza. It's been a blast, folks. Simply a blast. If you're a fan of horror and the macabre, of film and art and you've asked yourself, “Why can't it be Halloween everyday?” Well my friend, you are not alone, and there's a place for you.

As I sit back and relax on this short break before we start the tour again next year, I don't think it's excitement I feel. It's not exhilaration and the want and need to be on the road. It's like going home.

So before I end his little rant, there are some folks I'd like to thank. Kevin, foremost, for getting me involved in this insanity. Our booth girls, Sarah, Mitzi, Kristen Lugosi and Katie Deerest( a goddamned road warrior), our editor who joined us later in the year, and drinks as much as I do -Nick Day. Big thanks to Timo and Ben Harley for the interviews, shirts and Grape Ape, and all the fans, all the supporters, fellow writers, vendors and folks dedicated to the horror community. You all fucking rock.

Hugs and Kisses,
D.F. Noble