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Posts Tagged ‘Boris Karloff’

It’s For The Kids….

Posted by Dirck on 24 October, 2014

Like most folks in North America, my understanding of the eerie underpinnings of Hallowe’en came long after I had learned to look forward to putting an uncomfortable vacuum-formed plastic mask based loosely on Boris Karloff across my face and screech for chocolate.  I’m very pleased that this tradition continues in my own part of the world, too– this “mall trick-or-treating” drives me toward apoplexy.

Hallowe’en is, in my mind, for two constituencies.

Observant pagans who want to keep the spectral influences at bay.

Kids of most ages with room in their heart for innocent scares.

For the earlier cohort of the latter group, I offer today’s longish film:

Next week will be devoted to the older cohort.  People who think it’s about drinking while being in a room full of Sexy {Occupation} costumes can go hang… from any convenient hook or rope.

Today’s pen: Waterman Executive
Today’s ink: Pelikan violet

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Understanding Dawns

Posted by Dirck on 29 June, 2012

Some of what the past week has been pleased to call labour has been the preparation for my son’s birthday.  The birthday boy himself  has been undoing some of these efforts through his habit of lifting containers full of toy cars, or wooden railroad components, or small buildings, and gently tipping them out from head-height.  While this is only about a meter, it’s sufficient to strew things in great foot-injuring swathes about the floor.  My wife and I have thought that this has merely been a larval interest in either physics (lookit ’em bounce!) or psychology (gosh, the parents persist in the unrewarded labour of collection).  However, a big deal about an impending centennial shines new light on his behaviour.

This is the sort of thing one knows without connecting; obviously as a resident of this city for almost my entire life, I’ve been aware of the great Cyclone, and taken some pride in usually remembering its date… roughly.  Usually, it’s just the year that people wonder about, so it had not previously occurred to me that the day itself is the same as that of my son’s birth.  But there it is– the day before Canada Day (or, as it was in 1912, Dominion Day) is both the anniversary of the worst disaster to befall this city and of my son’s birth.  Little wonder, then, that he flings trains and buildings about, and gives onlookers the sense that he is an unstoppable energetic phenomenon.

The sensible reader will of course decline to accept any connection between a freak of the weather and the inclination of a small boy to wreak ruin and destruction to his parents’ house.  My reasoning portions agree; little kids, and apparently little boys in particular, are simply given to rampages, and these rampages result in a broad-cast field of toys and their components, and the aftermath of quivering, nervous people and livestock (cats, in our case) is the mere side-effect of child-rearing.

However, it has been observed that humans are deeply irrational creatures, and we are readily convinced by coincidence.  The fact that, after a great deal of parental effort and a very little opposed filial effort, our living room looks rather like this…

…merely reinforces the notion that my son is an avatar of one of nature’s greatest weapons, before which the works of Man are hard-pressed to stand.

I could live with that, I suppose, if it meant that we’d have Boris Karloff around to help clean up the place.

{Pens and inks as previous entry; I’m a boring chap when on vacation and hip-deep in rubble}

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How’s Tricks (and Treats)?

Posted by Dirck on 31 October, 2011

I’m taking my son to a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, and could let this little blab-fest lie fallow today… but not on the Most Wonderful Day of the Year.

Going to hide from the kids in a dark back room, rather than hand out treats?  Why not pass the time reading a rather good item of scary fiction– I recommend The Great God Pan by Arthur Machen.

If you want to really, truely upset yourself with a film, The Mist is just about the hardest horror film I can think of.  Bleak bleak bleak, from the fellow currently bringing us The Walking Dead.

For my part, while my wife takes our tiny hooting ghost about the neighbourhood, I’m going to put on a Hammer Studios Dracula film which our DVR has (hopefully) captured, and then switch to something with Boris Karloff when they return.  Unless the terror of Mickey Mouse Club House is forced upon us by our tiny dread overlord; he’s taken a fancy to it lately.  Brrrrr.

Today’s pen: Rotring Core (almost the whole of my very subtle “Visitor from Parallel Dimension” costume which is guaranteed to not win the Regular Work costume contest)
Today’s ink: Herbin Bleu Pervenche (because it’s a colour one can believe in this pen)

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