By the Pricking of My Thumbs…

First of all, it was October, a rare month for boys. Not that all months aren’t rare. But there be bad and good, as the pirates say. Take September, a bad month: school begins. Consider August, a good month: school hasn’t begun yet. July, well, July’s really fine: there’s no chance in the world for school. June, no doubting it, June’s best of all, for the school doors spring wide and September’s a billion years away.

But you take October, now. School’s been on a month and you’re riding easier in the reins, jogging along. You got time to think of the garbage you’ll dump on old man Prickett’s porch, or the hairy-ape costume you’ll wear to the YMCA the last night of the month. And if it’s around October twentieth and everything smoky-smelling and the sky orange and ash gray at twilight, it seems Halloween will never come in a fall of broomsticks and a soft flap of bedsheets around corners.

Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Insert Rundgren Song Here


I don’t want to work.

Instead, I’ve got a nagging desire to try and write some short fiction loosely based on several old-school songs. Not one piece, but a series of pieces inspired by those lyrics. At this particular moment, I’m interested in a mentally roughed-out ideas for some Siouxsie, early Cure and maybe some Bauhaus or Sisters of Mercy. Mostly Siouxsie because autumn is officially underway and October is just around the corner. October means All Hallows Eve and Samhain and, as such, I have always associated Siouxsie and the Banshees with October.

It might be because the Queen of Goth (“I’m not Goth!” she declared, thereby confirming her status as the Goth Queen) has written lyrics for a number of creepy songs (when you get down to actually reading the lyrics), including more than a few about October or about subject associated with October.

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