Friday, June 29, 2012
Capture the scent of a camping trip without the bugs, bears or effort.
Just purchased one of these and it's pretty awesome. And strong.
Not incensy or cologny. Literally the sweet scent of a wood fire.
I'll be sure to burn this one on the porch on Halloween night.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
When Michael Myers was six years old, he stabbed his sister to death. He was locked up for years in Smith's Grove Sanitarium, but he escaped. Soon after, Halloween became another word for mayhem.
Tommy Doyle, Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers
This isn’t really anything scary. It’s just something that kind of shocked me when it happened. A few months ago, I decided to ask my friends if anyone wanted to do a Ouija board session with me. They were hesitant at first, and some of them outright refused, but a few of them agreed. The first few sessions we did were pretty tame. We got answers, but nothing really got weird. One night, we’re sitting in my dorm room on our college campus playing with the Ouija board. People say that Ouija boards are really just your subconcious giving you answers or that someone in the group is just moving the planchette. I decided to test this, so I asked a question in my head. I didn’t vocalize the question at all or give any indication of what I was asking. After I asked the question in my mind, the planchette moved and spelled out, “time stops.” I immediately took my hand off the planchette and kind of just sat there, a bit shocked because that hadn’t been the answer I was expecting to my question. I was expecting something like “hot” or “cold”. My friends stared at me in confusion and wanted to know what my question was. I had asked, “What’s it like in hell?”
(not a work-friendly site name)
Monday, June 25, 2012
The town of Corinth was a wretched place--the capital of a swamp. It is two days' march west of the Tennessee River, which here and for a hundred and fifty miles farther, to where it falls into the Ohio at Paducah, runs nearly north. It is navigable to this point--that is to say, to Pittsburg Landing, where Corinth got to it by a road worn through a thickly wooded country seamed with ravines and bayous, rising nobody knows where and running into the river under sylvan arches heavily draped with Spanish moss. In some places they were obstructed by fallen trees. The Corinth road was at certain seasons a branch of the Tennessee River.
Ambrose Bierce, from What I Saw of Shiloh
Image by ut.law97.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Watched a forgettable film on Fearnet called The Marsh.
But it had a pretty impressive scarecrow featured throughout.
The face/mask looks to be made of rusted metal.
View the trailer here.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
My days inside the house were lists. Lists of chores, lists of my wrongdoings, lists of wrongs done to her. I came to know each tragedy, each slight she had suffered and the revenge she delivered to each who deserved it. I knew her mood by the slight of her eye. Days she was happy weren't too bad, and I told her how pretty she was and how she'd done right with all that she'd done. I washed her clothes and fixed her meals, all the while singing inside myself to my baby. Singing and thinking of his little place in the basement, wanting to be there and talking to him. At night I would go out beyond the woods and pick him flowers, bring them back and put them over him, hoping he could smell their sweet, green scent.
Bean, from Flowers for the Dead
Friday, June 22, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
The entire day, the sun was hidden behind clouds, one of those gauzy gray days you feel like screaming but she was calm, she was in control. Six-year-old Tommy ran inside when the school bus let him off all excited saying the bus driver had almost hit a buck in the fog and she smiled and kissed him and walked past as if she hadn’t heard. She’s been smiling all day. It wasn’t practice, it was her natural self: as, in high school, she’d smiled all the time. She was waiting for a phone call, she’d left a message on the answering service of one of the girls she used to work with, when she was working, and when the call came she had something planned to say she’d memorized, a strange man prowling the woods behind the trailer, a man with a beard, or maybe without a beard, probably a hunter, she hadn’t wanted to stare out at him wasn’t worried really but she’d mention it, then talk of something else. Not too much detail—that gave you away. From TV you learned that.
Joyce Carol Oates, from Love, Forever.