Archive for November 30, 2015

The Vum


She waits in her office, hair pulled back tight,

Her face dour, shriveled—vomitous sight!

A lad comes to see her, papers in hand,

Called after class to fulfill her demand.

He doesn’t want to but bends to her will;

She uses the role of teacher to kill.

He sits before her; she closes the door.

He rises to flee but falls to the floor

When her cigarette fingers rise and loom

High above, creeping, booming, she—the Vum.

Her head splits in pieces, neatly in two,

Squirting and pulsing and oozing with goo.

Her empty-bag titties open and gape

Flapping beneath the head-halves like a cape.

The wrinkles that wreathe, above and below,

Sprout razors that run split top to cleft toe.

The middle is naught but tentacle mass;

No stomach is left, no ’gina, no ass.

Each wriggling thing coils toward the prone lad

With pointy knob ends to pierce where he’s bad.

Screeching desire inside the goo pieces

She emits the fell odor of feces,

Which makes the lad tremble when she draws near:

Each Vummy detail arouses his fear.

Her feast begins when the tentacles strike,

Gripping and licking, they go where they like.

Stabbing the boy who needs tenderest touch—

Even one of her knobs would be too much!

Again, again, she violates and takes,

Stripping and sucking and eating lad cakes.

(Seeing her eat, stuffing boys in her hole,

Is stunning to see, no mouth to behold.)

Before he can scream, the boy’s fight is done,

The Vum zips her head up, hair in a bun.

Her door reopens, calls invitation

To the next fool who’ll bow to her station.

Her walls hang with prizes given herself

Declaring her teaching top of top shelf.

No one will dare ever challenge the Vum

Until you deal slayage, hand her just doom!

Spray her with acid, dissolve foulest flesh,

Turn wrinkles and bags to meaningless mesh.

When she’s a puddle she’ll then do no harm

And you’ll be a hero: don’t wait, aux armes!


MORAL: The only good Vum is dead, smushed mushy-mushy, fell foot to whore head. Don’t delay. Kill a Vum today.

The Body Is Filth


The body is filth. “Adult” we don’t do.

What’s unsafe for kids has no place at all.

A fist in a fuck, a suck-savor crawl—

Please! To indulge such a scene is taboo.

Instead keep it holy, righteous, and true;

Banish the cheap thoughts brought on by the Fall.

Lock up your naughties, the snatch, schlong, and ball,

The tit, the asshole, the nip and mouth, too.

That we were born with such things gives no pause

To the pious commanders of thinking

Whose task is reversing humanity.

They strip our minds naked enough to cause

Abnegation, devotion unblinking,

A wedding day to their insanity.

150 Years of Monstrosity (Coming for You Now)


Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Richard Marsh’s The Beetle. Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Parasite. Marie Corelli’s Ziska. Arthur Machen’s The Great God Pan. Ishiro Honda’s Matango. William Hope Hodgson’s “The Voice in the Night.” Angela Carter’s “The Lady of the House of Love.” Richard Laymon’s The Traveling Vampire Show. Cormac McCarthy’s Child of God and Blood Merdian. Brett Easton Ellis’s American Psycho. Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House. Helen Oyeyemi’s White is for Witching. H.P. Lovecraft in Comics. Werner Herzog’s Grizzly Man. Srdjan Spasojevic’s A Serbian Film.

Sharla Hutchison and Rebecca A. Brown edited MONSTERS AND MONSTROSITY FROM THE FIN DE SIECLE TO THE MILLENNIUM, a collection of essays that discusses all of these works, essential if you want to be in the know about modern horror.

I wrote the essay on A Serbian Film, generally considered by people in the know to be among the ugliest films ever made.

Go on. Feed your head. Get the book from the publisher, McFarland, or from Amazon. Give it as a gift. Insist on getting it as a gift.

All of the above. You can never have too many monsters.


Table of Contents

Introduction (Sharla Hutchison and Rebecca A. Brown) 1

Part I: Forgotten Monsters and Social Unrest

  • “She has a parasite soul!” The Pathologization of the Gothic Monster as Parasitic Hybrid in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Richard Marsh’s The Beetle and Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Parasite (Emilie ­Taylor-Brown ) 12
  • Marie Corelli’s Ziska: A Gothic Egyptian Ghost Story (Sharla Hutchison) 29
  • The Queer God Pan: Terror and Apocalypse, Reimagined (Mark De Cicco) 49
  • Attack of the Mushroom People: Ishiro Honda’s Matango and William Hope Hodgson’s “The Voice in the Night” (Anthony Camara) 69

Part II: Monstrous Violations of Private Life

  • Through the Eyes of the Monster: Angela Carter’s “The Lady of the House of Love” (Jameela F. Dallis) 92
  • Re-Vamping the Early 1960s: Freakish Vampires and Monstrous Teens in Richard Laymon’s The Traveling Vampire Show (Rebecca A. Brown) 111
  • Gothic Commodification of the Body and the Modern Literary Serial Killer in Child of God and American Psycho (Christopher Coughlin) 129
  • Rocking and Reeling through the Doors of Miscreation: Disequilibrium in Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House (Susan Poznar) 144

Part III: Millennial Monsters

  • “I think I am a monster”: Helen Oyeyemi’s White Is for Witching and the Postmodern Gothic (Bianca Tredennick) 168
  • “Madness and monstrosity”: Notions of the Gothic and Sublime in Comics Adaptations of H. P. Lovecraft (Rebecca Janicker) 187
  • The Monster of Massification: A Serbian Film (L. Andrew Cooper) 206
  • “Bears that dance, bears that don’t”: Aggression, Civilization and the Gothic Bear (Julie Wilhelm and Steven J. Zani) 228

Alone with Ominous Spiders


Alone with Ominous Spiders


Alone with ominous spiders I sit,

Cocooned when imminent bliss is biting,

Their legs as many as starry nights lit

By thin-webbed tricksters with thirsts inciting.

A trip on a thread, vibration, I turn,

Feeling their tremors approaching the crux;

Center, intersection, I touch to learn

My fate, my end in the mother of flux.

Scurrying over my form, they quiver,

Pushing my skin through disgust into song,

Fantasy sounds, the keys to discover:

Monsters of sorrow got destiny wrong.

What is the sense in a spidery dream?

Solitary change yields pleasures extreme.

How to Figure Out THE PROBLEM

You know something isn’t right. A nagging feeling, an itch, a funny smell, a sour stickiness on your tongue, a lurking in the corner of your eye, a high-pitched whine that refuses to fade—it’s there, it’s real, but you don’t know what it is. It does more than haunt you. It bugs the living shit out of you. What the hell can you do about it if you don’t know what it even is? Here are some tips for figuring out THE PROBLEM.

  • Ask the bodies. You’ve collected and stored a few by now. Sure, some may be in the back yard, and some may be in the basement freezer, but why leave them tucked away all the time? During the dark hours, pull the shades, close the blinds, or just hang sheets over the windows, for goodness’s sake (don’t use duct tape—I learned that the hard way). Make sure you’re private, then gather the bodies, sit them up around your biggest table, and have a nice chat. Don’t ask right away; that would be rude. Start with the standard how’ve-you-been talk. Dead bodies appreciate that. Don’t assume that a body who didn’t like small talk during life doesn’t like it now. All dead bodies like small talk. After the small talk, pop the question. What’s the problem? If they know, they’ll probably tell you. Bodies are perceptive, but they don’t know everything, so give them a few chances before you start hacking.

Happy Birthday to Me (1981)


  • Change your meds. Chances are you don’t take your meds anyway, because, sheesh, how are you supposed to function when you can’t hear what anybody’s saying, just some kind of muffled sleepy crap? Anyway, the thing to do is to change up the doses. Some people describe psychosis and dementia as disorders, but others know that they’re windows to Truth. If you take an SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor: many drugs for depression and the like) or anxiolytic (like diazepam, clonazepam, or another chill-out anti-anxiety pill in the Valium tradition), you might find that taking too much or suddenly taking too little makes you a visionary. We’re not talking high here. We’re talking the eighth fucking dimension, and if someone there doesn’t know what the problem is, the problem is worse than you thought.

Jacob’s Ladder (1990)


  • Eat something. Maybe you’re just hungry. You’ll see.

Naked Blood (1996)


  • Find a fellow who feels the same way. People in such situations tend to be loners, but friends and lovers are especially important when you have problems to deal with, and who better to help you find out what the problem is than your bosom buddy? The person with whom you travel the road of life? Nowadays, we all define family in different ways, so don’t let me or anyone else tell you who the person is. The connection could be platonic, paternal, pederastic, preternatural, or otherwise perverse—no matter. Only connect!

Natural Born Killers (1994)


  • Hire power. Money can’t solve all problems, but it can bring in the top experts from just about anywhere in the world, who can at least tell you that you have any kind of problem you can imagine. Therefore save up so you can invest when the time is right! Spending on the right expert can make the difference between being THE PROBLEM’s victim and kicking THE PROBLEM’s ass.

Dead Alive (1992)