A few words about Halloween

October 30, 2012 at 8:08 pm (Nostalgia, Random Shit, Uncategorized) (, , , , , , )

Let Mr. Carapace Clavicle Moundshroud and the boys from Ray Bradbury’s The Halloween Tree explain:

moundshroud

“Do you see lads? Think! People vanished forever. They died, oh Lord, they died! But came back in dreams. Those dreams were called Ghosts, and frightened men in every age—“

“Night and day. Summer and winter, boys. Seedtime and harvest. Life and death. That’s what Halloween is, all rolled up in one. Noon and midnight. Being born, boys. Rolling over, playing dead like dogs, lads. And getting up again, barking, racing, through thousands of years of death each day and each night Halloween, boys, every night, every single night dark and fearful until at last you made it and hid in cities and towns and had some rest and could get your breath.”

moundshroud 2

“And you began to live longer and have more time, and space out of the deaths, and put away fear, and at last have only special days in each year when you thought of night and dawn and spring and autumn and being born and being dead.

“And it all adds up. Four thousand years ago, one hundred years ago, this year, one place or another, but the celebrations all the same—“

halloween tree kite

“The Feast of Samhain—“

“The Time of the Dead Ones—“

All Souls’. All Saints’.”

“The Day of the Dead.”

El Dia De Muerte.”

“All Hallows’.”

“Halloween.”

I miss Ray Bradbury.

Illustrations by Joseph Mugnaini. Kite image taken from The Haunted Closet. Vid is from the 1993 The Halloween Tree cartoon.

Permalink Leave a Comment

The ones I’ll be mourning

June 6, 2012 at 6:03 pm (Articles / Interviews) (, , , , , , )

Ray Bradbury is dead. Because ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’ and ‘The Halloween Tree’ are a firm part of my childhood, I mourn. His death has me thinking about all those other writers, artists, whatevers, we admire from afar – people whose works we grow up with, or at least grow older with.

moundshroud 2

When they die, we mourn. It’s not like they’re family, or friends. If you’re really lucky, you got to meet them once or twice. Maybe you got to shake their hand at a convention, or they replied to your fan mail. Maybe you got to interview them for an article, or work on their movie set, or act out their play. You may or may not ever get to tell them just how much their work has affected you, and how much their creations are part of the background of your personal psychological landscape. But when they die, you mourn. Read the rest of this entry »

Permalink 1 Comment