I don't have a Halloween icon?
I mentioned that I picked up a copy of The Monster Book of Zombies the other day. I'm enjoying it immensely, probably because the first few stories are as far removed from the post-apocalyptic, action-oriented, blood-and-guts zombie stories that I'm used to from movies and the odd modern zombie novels I've read. A lot of these so far have been authentic (Edgar Allen Poe) or endearingly retro-Victorian gothic. It's all very slow, very looming in a way that has not much to do with suspense so much as atmosphere. I kind of love it.
And today is a simply perfect day to be reading such things. Dark and soon-to-be-stormy day-verging-on-early-night. Cool and windy, a combination of which makes one want to wrap oneself in a blanket with a hot beverage in front of a picturesque window and read scary stories until one is jumping at sounds left and right. Of course, if I tried such a thing at my apartment, the view would be of a school (not quite scary for the right reasons, that), and any cozying up would feature a kitty claiming my lap and then insisting upon attention (which is fine, but the cuteness ruins the gothic mood). So I'll enjoy it on my lunch break and tonight on the subway, and sigh and wish I were removed upstate, where I could really wonder about being axe-murdered in my sleep and ponder whether or not they'd even find my body for days...
It's a funny thing to wish for, to be scared in quite so (un)realistic a way, I realize. I just, well, like being scared. Not in the terrorists-are-going-to-kill-us, global-warming-is-going-to-drown-us-in-CO2-and-ice-cap-water way. Those things are legitimately terrifying. I mean in the silly-fun way of rollercoasters, mesmerism (Poe, again), and horror movies. It's just that I'm so not scared by lots of things in everyday life that people get superstitious about (God, graveyards, that sort of thing) that it's fun and refreshing to be chilled by something. Just so long as it's comfortably removed from potential possibility, why not enjoy the thrill?
And today is a simply perfect day to be reading such things. Dark and soon-to-be-stormy day-verging-on-early-night. Cool and windy, a combination of which makes one want to wrap oneself in a blanket with a hot beverage in front of a picturesque window and read scary stories until one is jumping at sounds left and right. Of course, if I tried such a thing at my apartment, the view would be of a school (not quite scary for the right reasons, that), and any cozying up would feature a kitty claiming my lap and then insisting upon attention (which is fine, but the cuteness ruins the gothic mood). So I'll enjoy it on my lunch break and tonight on the subway, and sigh and wish I were removed upstate, where I could really wonder about being axe-murdered in my sleep and ponder whether or not they'd even find my body for days...
It's a funny thing to wish for, to be scared in quite so (un)realistic a way, I realize. I just, well, like being scared. Not in the terrorists-are-going-to-kill-us, global-warming-is-going-to-drown-us-in-CO2-and-ice-cap-water way. Those things are legitimately terrifying. I mean in the silly-fun way of rollercoasters, mesmerism (Poe, again), and horror movies. It's just that I'm so not scared by lots of things in everyday life that people get superstitious about (God, graveyards, that sort of thing) that it's fun and refreshing to be chilled by something. Just so long as it's comfortably removed from potential possibility, why not enjoy the thrill?