LITERAL REMAINS

Flame 

You call me after dark;
Maybe I don’t feel like a torch song tonight.
Maybe I don’t need any of your redemption,
But I want to go if only out of my own spite.
I still have your picture, I don’t know why,
It’s the picture you gave me that one time.
I look longing at your lips and shoulders,
Longing for that moment when you were mine.
Those nights seem so distant, almost dead,
But we were both very much alive and new,
And it was something in that instant when we kissed
And you returned the favor with “I love you.”
Sometimes now the night is silent,
Unlike when we once whispered each others name;
And though tonight is as quiet as a new bed,
Right now I just don’t feel like another flame.

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Okay, so, I was looking at the Poetry section and realized I had not posted any poems in quite a while now.  So I started looking through some of my files and thought I would post some that were not so “downer”, you know, maybe put some up that were a little more optimistic, maybe.  Optimistic in a good way.  There you have’em.  Actually, there you have it.  I posted two poems, and one is kind of hopeful.  I think.  (A big whopping two- KatieBella is so on my case).

But, I’m a sucker for a sad song, a break up song, a bit of poesy of unrequited love and longing and so on and so forth, and a couple of the poems I was going to post, well, I can’t find the darn things.  They’re here somewhere, I know they are, but my desk and my files aren’t exactly in any kind of helpful order.  Oh, I’ll find them, I will, and when I do….

Not finding the poems I wanted to post is just one more thing this week.  It’s been one of those weeks, know what I mean?  You ever have just ‘one of those weeks’?  It’s been like that for me.  Allergies, life, not finding the files I wanted, it’s just been piling up, you know.  But, breathing exercises…breathing exercises…good air in, bad air out…wax on, wax off….

I think I’m a little better now.  I don’t want to turn this into some kind of rant thing, or anything such as that.  I want to give a shout out to a friend, and she knows who she is (I think).  Hootie May, keep on trucking.

I want to leave with this parting piece of advice:  When life gives you lemons, squeeze the juice into a water pistol and shoot people in the eyes with it.

Peace.

John
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All God’s Children Have Wings
(for K.C.) 

I won’t tell you how far down I’ve sunk,
Or that tonight I’ve reached an all time low.
I’ll spare you the details, as ugly as they are;
It’s a heavy burden, and it hurts too much to know.
But understand the wilderness plays tricks,
And it’s tried to turn me against you;
It has turned my head backwards, and spoiled my mind,
And has made me believe lies to be the truth.

I’ve turned so many blind eyes
Until I can’t see much of anything anymore;
Your face is a stranger to me, and
I don’t even recognize the sound of your voice.
But do you think you could find it in your heart
To leave a light on for me, so I’ll know which way
Home is, and the road will be a little easier to see?

I know the flicker that pinpoints the dark
Is a prayer that you are sending up;
I know that every time I’ve yelled and cursed,
You have offered me faith, hope, and love.
The hole that digs deep into my heart
I’ve tried to fill with idle thinking and wishing.
But the warmth I feel from your light makes me
Realize the one thing my life has been missing.

 The closer I get to the light,
The stronger I feel myself become.
The stronger I am, the more I’m healed,
And the less I feel the urge to run.
Pray that the good Lord continues to shine His light,
That I may turn these lows into all time highs.
And when I hear the Shepherd’s voice, I will not
Walk out of this wilderness, but rather I will fly.

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A Hundred Different Ways 

In a million years, a thousand
Days, or ninety seconds from now,
The sky will fall a hundred different
Ways, and Beauty might find its rest
In the fifth corner of a secret grave. 

All the kingdoms that use the earth,
All the empires we built up by
Hand, all our treasures will pale
In the shadow of ruin, and all our
Wealth will slip beneath us on the
Gusts of wind across the dunes of man.

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I don’t remember where I read it or heard it, but I can distinctly remember Wes Craven being described as a good director who has made some bad movies.  That can be said for a lot of artists, no matter the medium (David Bowie had Tonight, Stephen King had Insomnia, and David Lee Roth had a career).  I mention Wes Craven distinctly because I think that same description applies to author Brian Keene.  He’s a good writer who has written some bad books.  Also, Keene’s most recent novel reminded me, somewhat, of Craven’s (mostly good) film The People Under the Stairs.  Luckily, Urban Gothic is also mostly good.

Six teens from the suburbs travel to a downtown Philadelphia club for a Monsters of Hip-Hop concert.  The teens are out for a good time, trying to live life a little before their high school years are behind them and they go their separate ways.  The unofficial leader of the group, Tyler (who is a bad boy in their corner of the ‘burbs) wants to stop for pot.  While trying to find his connection’s crib, they get lost and the gang becomes stranded in a very, very, bad part of town.  A misunderstanding with a group of local youths sends the suburbanites running, ultimately finding shelter in a rundown house that the locals ignore and fear.

Inside the house, the teens discover they are not alone.  The house, abandoned though it may seem, is teeming with life.  Mutants live there.  Hideous, deformed, cannibalistic, hungry mutants.  From big to small, from the least to the greatest, from the less monstrous to the more monstrous, this inbred family of the damned wants to chow down on the trespassers.  It’s a night long fight for survival.

As I said in my review of Keene’s Castaways, his latest works have been lacking.  Urban Gothic feels like Keene is having some fun again.  His trademark wetworks are here, as well as his fascinations with genitals, bodily functions, and pus.  It runs that same terrain as Castaways, with only pretty much the names and settings having been changed, but it’s more fun than that book, and more entertaining.  There’s a message slipped in about not judging people, about stereotyping them, but it’s lost when you consider the inbred mutants.  Of course, one doesn’t read a Brian Keene novel for insight, knowledge, or self-realization.  Social commentary is not his forte.

Urban Gothic is not stellar Keene, but it will have to do.  For now.

3 out 5
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HarperCollins is proud to announce the global publication of two posthumous Michael Crichton novels. The first, Pirate Latitudes, will be published on November 24, 2009; the second, as yet untitled, will be published in Fall 2010.

Pirate Latitudes is an adventure story about piracy in the New World. Set in 1665, when Jamaica was a British colony holding out against Spanish dominance, the story centers on a plan hatched by the island’s governor and a notorious pirate called Hunter to raid a Spanish treasure galleon. Fast-moving and suspenseful, Pirate Latitudes is a historical classic from one of America’s best-loved authors. The novel was discovered amongst Crichton’s files and was written contemporaneously with Next, published in 2006.

Jonathan Burnham, Senior Vice President and Publisher of Harper, says, “Pirate Latitudes is a fantastically enjoyable and light-hearted adventure yarn about pirates and profiteers in 17th century Jamaica. It is deeply researched and full of lively historical detail, and it shows Crichton going back to the territory he explored in novels such as The Great Train Robbery – old-fashioned entertainment, with a twist.”

Here is more of a description of Pirate Latitudes:

The Caribbean, 1665. A remote colony of the English crown, the island of Jamaica holds out against the vast supremacy of the Spanish empire. Devoid of London’s luxuries, Port Royal, its capital, is a cutthroat town of taverns, grog shops, and bawdy houses. In this steamy climate, life can end swiftly by dysentery—or dagger. But for a daring soul like Captain Edward Hunter, this wild outpost in the New World can also lead to great fortune, if he abides by the island’s code. In the name of His Majesty King Charles II of England, gold in Spanish hands is gold for the taking and the law of the land rests with those ruthless enough to make it.

Word in port is that the Spanish galleon El Trinidad, fresh from New Spain, is awaiting repairs in nearby Matanceros. Heavily fortified, the impregnable Spanish harbor is guarded by the bloodthirsty Cazalla, a favorite commander of King Philip IV. With the Jamaican governor’s backing, Hunter assembles a crew of ruffians to infiltrate the enemy island and commandeer the galleon and its fortune in Spanish gold. The raid is as perilous as the bloodiest tales of Matanceros legend, and Hunter will lose more than one man before he makes it onto the island’s shores, where dense jungle and the firepower of Spanish infantry stand between him and the treasure.

With the help of his cunning band, Hunter hijacks El Trinidad and escapes the deadly clutches of Cazalla, leaving plenty of carnage in his wake. But the danger—and adventure—are only just beginning. . .

It is available now for pre-order.
All information courtesy of MichaelCrichton.com.

Contestants on a reality survival show are stranded on an isolated tropical island with bloodthirsty, hungry, monsters.  They aren’t playing for money anymore, they’re playing for their lives.

The last couple of Brian Keene novels I read, Dead Sea and Dark Hollow, left me with a bad taste in my mouth.  It seemed as if Mr. Keene were just cashing in a paycheck.  I skipped his book Ghost Walk, and ignored Castaways upon its release earlier this year.  I read the back cover, thought it sounded interesting, but still thought I’d skip it.  But it gnawed at me.  I picked it up (along with his latest which I should have a review for some time next week), because Keene is a good writer, read The Rising and City of the Dead if you don’t believe me.  If Castaways is the first of his novels that you read, you might call me a liar.

As a tropical storm moves over the island, the contestants of the show CASTAWAYS are left to fend for themselves along with a watchful producer, sound guy, and cameraman.  Little does anyone know that the short, hairy, primitive, bipedal inhabitants of the island have been watching them play their little game and have decided that the male contestants will make nice dinners and that the females just may be fit to breed with.  Carnage ensues.  Limbs and lives are lost.  People are eaten.  Women are raped.

Castaways is almost worth the read, but, like I said, it feels like Keene is just going through the motions.  I have nothing against exploitation, or grade B pulp, but Castaways isn’t bad enough to be good.  Ooh, here’s short hairy monkey looking little creatures raping women!  Keene presents these things in a manner that suggests he’s writing them to just be writing them, trying to shock his audience in a way a kid will cuss just to be cussing, to try to rile someone, to get a reaction, or because they think it’s cool.  It’s a shortcut to thinking, and it shortchanges the reader.

There are some things that work, it’s not a total loss.  The action is constant, the book moves swiftly.  The characters are interesting when not trying to preach a message or when they act like standard horror characters.  But when it comes down to it, if Castaways is to be read, it’s to be read for the action scenes.  The chases through the jungle setting are fun.

2 out of 5
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Universal’s big budget remake, The Wolfman, starring Benicio del Toro has been pushed back again.  Originally to have been released February 13th, 2009, it was moved to April 3rd, 2009, then again to November 6th of this year.  It has been moved, hopefully for the last time, to February 12th, 2010.  The wait had better be worth it.

Maybe House of the Wolf Man will see the light of day, or dark of night, before The Wolfman.

Dr. Bela Reinhardt (Ron Chaney) is a mad doctor who has invited five people to his castle to determine which of them shall inherit is estate. He has arranged for a competition of sorts. The winner will be chosen by process of… elimination. The visitors quickly realize they made a terrible mistake in accepting Reinhardt’s invitation, but are trapped like rats in a cage under the watchful eye of Reinhardt’s ghoulish manservant, Barlow.

Wow, it’s July 29th already!  It’s almost friggin’ August!  Christmas will be here before we know it.  Do you ever get cravings for eggnog?  That boiled custard stuff is the bee’s knees.

I intended to do a middle of the year wrap up last month, since June is technically the half way point, but if you’ve read my previous entry then you know I’ve been kind of lazy lately.  Just lately.  Ignore what anyone else may say contrary to that statement.  So, I thought I would go ahead and do it now, because if not now, when?  Am I right?  Yeah, I am.  So here’s a list of some the best books and movies I have read and seen this so far in 2009.

It’s not been a banner year, as of yet, on the book front.  I’ve read some disappointing little tomes, and I’ve read some really bad stabs of literary lameness.  Hopefully, by the end of December, this list will be so difficult to compile I’ll have to beat my head against the wall to narrow it down.  As it stands, I really couldn’t come up with five (5!) books that I considered the cream of the crop.  I had to settle with four.  [clicking on the number next to the name will take you to my original review].

1.  Drood: A Novel by Dan Simmons
2.  Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith
3.  The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
4.  Elsewhere by William Peter Blatty

Now, with the movies, I have seen some true gems.  If you look through our movie reviews you’ll some of the more well known, mainstream, films, but I like to go after those that fly in under the radar.  Movies that may be little known, but deserve an audience.  The list that follows is mixture of both.

1.  The Midnight Meat Train
2.  Let The Right One In
3.  Quarantine
4.  Splinter
5.  The Hangover

John
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Hey everyone, what’s shakin’?  I’ve been, well, I’m not going to lie to you, I’ve been kind of lazy lately.  I know, I shouldn’t be, but I’ve had so many distractions the last couple of weeks or so, I just haven’t done a darn thing.  Do any of you ever get to a state of being where you feel like you have to force yourself to do stuff?  I’ve been like that.  I need to work on this and that, but it’s just so much easier not too.  Plus my nephews have been hanging out around here at the ole homestead, and I can use them as an excuse for my unspecified debility.

But anyway, I digress.  I like what I do here at Literal Remains.  I enjoy reading books and watching movies, and then letting all of you know what I thought about said book and/or movie.  Even the bad ones.  I guess that’s what I do to relax, though the bad books and movies can get my blood to boiling.  I mention all of this simply because I was asked recently, by more than a couple of people, what I do in my spare time, what I do to relax, unwind.  I like to read, books that is.  And I like to watch.  Movies.  What are you guys into?  What are you reading?  What (movies/shows) are you watching?  What musicians are you listening to?

I thought I would share a little about what I’m into at the moment while I have a little time before I report to work.  So, here I go….

I start every new calendar year, for the most part, with a reading list, a reading project if you will.  I generally have a list of books that I want to read, and naturally several books get added to list all the time.  Last year my endeavor was to read all of Robert E. Howard’s original Conan stories.  I did it, I had a good time.  I love Conan.  This year, my list has gotten way out of hand.  Big time.  You see, last year I bought all of these Indiana Jones novels (reprints from the nineties), there’s like twelve of them.  I saved them to read this summer, because, you know, Dr. Jones is action and adventure.  I’ve read five of them so far, and I hope they get better.  There is some nice stuff in them, they are adequate little pulp stories, but they’re really nothing to write home about.  I could have already them all, but I’ve been reading stuff for this site, and everything else, so that’s put a damper on those books, not that I’m complaining.

Also, on the list for this year was The Complete Sherlock Holmes.  That’s right, all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Holmes stories in one volume (thank you Barnes & Noble, and Aunt Jady who gave it to me for Christmas last year).  I’ve not read the first page yet.  I’ll get to it.  Before too long.  I also have a three volume (so far) collection of Conan the Barbarian comics that I’ve yet to read.  I’ll get to them also.  And I am slowly, but surely, working my way through Ian Fleming’s original James Bond novels.  Plus I’ve got other books to read and review for the site.  I have plenty to do, when I feel like it.

Currently, on the movie front, I am completely fascinated by Watchmen:  The Director’s Cut.  It’s not perfect, but I like it better than the theatrical version (I liked it too, just think this one is slightly better).  Maybe I’m just glad we have a Watchmen movie that doesn’t suck.  Maybe I need to see the theatrical version again?

And on the music front, these are the CD’s in my car right now:  Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, The Rolling Stones, U2, The Cure, The Who, Led Zeppelin.

So, I guess I’ll talk to you folks later.  I’m thinking of doing some work.  At some point.

Peace.

John
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The other day I was talking to someone about This Is Spinal Tap.  As I was watching Skeleton Crew I was reminded of the Spinal Tap observation that there is a fine line between clever and stupid.  Skeleton Crew almost achieves cleverness.

A film crew is making a movie, SILENT CREEK, about the Auteur, a mad doctor who filmed his torture murders of the mentally insane.  They are making their movie in the very same hospital in which the crazy doctor did his dirty work.  Long abandoned and fallen into disrepair, they got a great set and great price– it was free!  While the boom operators are trying to record some found sound, they discover a secret room in the basement, in which resides the lost films of the Auteur.

SILENT CREEK’s first time director falls under the spell of the snuff films and, through some supernatural encouragement, takes it upon himself to ensure that their horror biopic is as authentic as possible.  He begins torturing his crew and cast and films their deaths.

Skeleton Crew is campy, and all involved are not only in on the joke, their tongues have ripped through their cheeks and they trip over them.  A plot twist in the last of the movie nearly ruins the fun, but by that time it doesn’t matter.  It’s all a guilty pleasure.

This movie had two directors (who also wrote), and it shares with Dead Wood that tug-of-war feeling that it wants to go in different directions at different times, leaving the movie with a lack of consistency.  Nonetheless, Skeleton Crewis worth watching for SILENT CREEK’s lead no-list actor who plays the mad doctor.  “Ham” doesn’t even come close to describing his performance.  Neither does “overacting”.

Skeleton Crew wants to be a middle finger at Hostel and Saw, and it struggles before slipping headlong into stupidity.  It’s not a complete waste, it’s a solid B-movie, it’s just not much else.

2.5 out 0f 5
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Stop me if you’ve heard this one before:  Two couples go into the woods for a relaxing weekend of camping and then begin disappearing one at a time.  I wish I could say Dead Wood had something more to offer on a familiar theme, but, other than an intriguing way of body disposal, it’s the same old path through the woods to Grandma’s house we’ve travelled a hundred times over.

Webb and Larri are taking a break form the hustle and bustle of city life for a couple of days of roughing in the wild.  They invite Milk, Larri’s cousin, and Jess, Larri’s friend, along on the excursion in hopes of sparks flying between the two singles.  Other than hitting a deer and Webb having to snap its neck to put it out of its misery, the trip to the countryside is fairly uneventful.  Once they begin their trek into the woods, the group discover some irregularities, such as bee attacks and junked out cars where there should not be any junked out cars.

The gang make it through the first night, only becoming scared at a scream from somewhere in the deep, dark, woods.  The next morning they discover a woman outside their tents frying up breakfast (she was hungry she explained, and it suited the four love birds, so that made it a good enough reason for me).  Her name is Ketsy and her boyfriend is missing; he stepped out the tent and disappeared into thin air.  It’s when Webb disappears that the gang begin to suspect Ketsy ain’t all she seems.

Dead Wood is credited with three directors (who also wrote); it feels like a movie torn between directions in which to go.  The cast seems to have come from a completely different movie that one of the three directors must have been working on somewhere else; these guys are not a happy lot, even the fun loving oaf is deeply dull.  There’s not a spark of life in any of the four main players; when the “evil force” impersonates them, they’re as wooden as when they were alive.

There is a neat idea in Dead Wood, but it is ignored in favor of standard window dressing and uninspired execution.

1.5 out of 5
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The DVD streets on October 6th.