Another month is over, which means it’s time to gather all of the previous month’s dreams and see whether anything is gained by letting them rub up against each other. March’s guest stars included James Earl Jones, George R. R. Martin, Jorge Garcia, Harlan Ellison, Jesse Jackson … and maybe you.

MARCH 2012

I dreamt I sat with @ColleenLindsay (and forgotten others) on a large sectional couch made of pancakes, discussing the future of publishing. 31 Mar

I dreamt I was in a vast NYC lobby when there were shouts about a woman being kidnapped. I tackled and pinned the guy until police arrived. 28 Mar

I dreamt I worked at Newsweek, and the editors grew angry with me when I appeared on the cover wearing a hoodie. Not sure what it all meant. 28 Mar

I dreamt I tried unsuccessfully to calm my (nonexistent in real life) teen daughter, upset I’d read some of her stories without permission. 27 Mar

I dreamt I fried a veal chop in oil while Woody Harrelson critiqued my every move, telling me I wasn’t showing enough respect for the veal. 26 Mar

I dreamt of bunch of Amish guys had cleared the land across the way and were constructing a subdivision … which meant it was time to move. 25 Mar

I dreamt the world went all post-apocalyptic. As I made a run for it, I grabbed my uke, which seems odd, since I’ve only had it four months. 24 Mar

I dreamt that after using a steampunk samurai sword to dispatch assassins by my mailbox, then came the hard part — disposing of the bodies. 24 Mar

Some of last night’s dreams are but fragments: dropping an expensive camera in a rushing river (but where and why?); The Rock (doing what?) 23 Mar

I dreamt I was with Jorge Garcia as he had his first meal at a rib joint he’d just invested in. (Though maybe I _was_ Jorge Garcia. Unsure.) 23 Mar (more…)

Yesterday, while on my return flight from Salt Lake City where I was attending the World Horror Convention, I pulled out a copy of United Airlines’ inflight magazine Hemispheres from the seat pocket in front of me, something I tend to do when the plane begins its descent and I’m forced to put away my electronic devices.

And while looking at the fine print in the back—you know, those pages where you’re told what you can’t bring on board (“liquid and explosive devices”) and how to avoid getting those pesky pulmonary embolisms (“with foot on floor, gently roll the sole of the foot inward), I discovered a notice I’d never seen before.

At the bottom of page 121, I found a block of text that read:

The use of still and video cameras, film or digital, including any cellular or other devices that have this capability, is permitted only for recording of personal events. Photography or audio or video recording of other customers without their express prior consent is strictly prohibited. Also, unauthorized photography or audio or video recording of airline personnel, aircraft equipment of procedures is always prohibited. Any photography (video or still) or voice or audio recording or transmission while on any United Airlines aircraft is strictly prohibited, except to the extent specifically permitted by United Airlines.

I can sort of understand United not wanting me to violate the privacy of the guy in the next row sticking peas up his nose, but what if a pilot suddenly freaks out and starts shouting about al-Qaida, or a flight attendant begins rambling about 9/11? You know any passengers not involved in jumping on top of the offender will be whipping out his or her iPhone and recording the event. The problem is, though, that technically, the fine print of United’s rule prohibits that.

But what did those words really mean?

I decided to call United and ask. (more…)

And here I had such good intentions!

On Friday morning, I posted what happened on Thursday, my first day at the 2012 World Horror Convention in Salt Lake City, but then I got too busy at the con to report on the rest of the con during the con, which violates Edelman’s Schadenfreude Rule of Convention Reporting.

And now that I’m home, I see I don’t have the time (and am unlikely to find the time) to tell you the details of my further schmoozing, my trip to a cemetery with Wasatch Paranormal Investigators, and all the rest of my misadventures. So here are six videos that’ll have to stand in lieu of a blow-by-blow description of my weekend, because life intervenes.

First, take a tour of Friday’s night’s mass signing, at which you’ll spot every author, editor, artist, etc., in attendance at the con. (Except me, of course, since I’m wielding the camera.)

Then check out Saturday’s interview of Guest of Honor and HWA Lifetime Achievement Award winner Joe Lansdale by the effervescent Del Howison. Lots of wisdom here!

Next, a few snippets from the Bram Stoker Awards banquet, held Saturday night, starting with Toastmaster Jeff Strand’s always entertaining opening monologue. (more…)

The first day of programming for the 2012 World Horror Convention wasn’t going to begin until 3:00 p.m. Thursday, so at 9:30 a.m., I threw myself out on the streets of Salt Lake City. I didn’t return to the hotel until 1:00 p.m., having spent 3-1/2 hours jumping on and off buses and street cars, getting lost as none of them took me quite where I wanted to go, walking around 4-1/2 miles, having lunch for breakfast, and hunting the elusive ukulele.

I was going through ukulele withdrawal, so I had this crazy idea that I’d visit a music store about three miles away, pick up one of their extremely cheap bottom-of-the-line ukes so I could continue to practice each day, then give it away to some kid before I flew home. But due to that getting-lost thing, I never made it there. So I abandoned my plans and instead headed to the first stop on my Man V. Food tour of the city—Bruges Waffles and Frites, where I began my day with their famed Machine Gun Sandwich, which is “a fresh baguette stuffed with: 2 merguez (lamb) sausages, fries, andalouse sauce.”

Yes, there are two spicy sausages buried somewhere under there! (Adam Richman did NOT let me down.)

From there, I headed off to Intermountain Guitar and Banjo (which was much easier to find than that other uke place) to check out their collection of vintage ukuleles, including this 1929 Gibson banjolele.

But I’d made the mistake of showing up on a day the uke specialist wasn’t there, so I didn’t get to lay my hands on any of them. I might sneak back Friday afternoon, though, when there’s a break in the horrific con festivities.

When I returned to the hotel at 1:00, I immediately left again with Jeff Strand, Lynne Hansen, Gabrielle Faust, Stephen Kling and Derek Clendening so they could experience Bruges (it’s that good), followed by much schmoozing in the halls until the 6:00 p.m. opening ceremonies … which you can watch below whether you were in Salt Lake City or not. (more…)

Those of you who come here for the comics and the science fiction and the old timey magazine and newspaper articles have probably been thinking lately, what’s all this with the ukulele? Well, I’ve fallen in love, so there’ll be uke neep now and then, but this will be the last for a bit, especially since I’m heading off to this year’s World Horror Convention later today, so expect chattering about the goings-on in Salt Lake City for the next week instead.

But one last ukulele video before I go, just to show how far my strumming has gotten in four months and a day of owning a ukulele. Still trying to figure out how to sing decently while strumming and fretting at the same time, but I’m sure that will come.

And now … no more ukulele videos until I post something on April 25 to see how far I’ve gotten in five months!

(But you’re not going to hold me to that, are you?)

It’s hard to believe that when I started with the ukulele four months ago I hadn’t heard of George Formby, but … I hadn’t. Because now that I’ve learned of him, I’ve fallen in love with his personality and ukulele skills, and in fact, I’m kind of addicted.

I only heard of him five weeks ago, which is hard to believe, considering how obsessed I’ve become with him since then. But it wasn’t until, right before my three-month uke anniversary, when I announced I would post a video of me playing and asked you to choose a song, that someone suggested I play “Leaning on a Lamp Post,” which led me to discover (via Wikipedia) that “between 1934 and 1945 Formby was the top comedian in British cinema,” and that in 1939 “he was Britain’s number-one film star of all genres.”

But he didn’t travel well, it seems, and he never caught in in the States. I quickly fell in love with him, though, thanks to what I found on YouTube, which included this recent documentary that explains his appeal and revealed that after his death in 1961, the George Formby Society began holding quarterly conventions in Blackpool.

And then, thanks to a Twitter search a few weeks ago, I discovered that one of those cons was going on that weekend, and I befriended a dedicated bunch of UK Formby fans, who’ve been giving me the kind of feedback I need to learn the uke the way I want to learn it, particularly since no one on this side of the pond, including my ukulele teacher, had any idea who Formby was.

And so, in the spirit of friendship, I threatened to post a video of me singing one of Formby’s songs to the Formby Facebook Fan Club, even though I’m in no way ready to sing them. See, the man used a bunch of special strumming techniques, like the split stroke and the triple, to create banjolele solos he’d plunk down in the middle of songs to wow audiences, and I have no idea how to do that yet. But these new friends seemed so convivial that yesterday I recorded myself “performing” the first Formby song I found on YouTube, “Why Don’t Women Like Me?” And after their response, I thought, oh, why not post it here? (more…)

I bought a ukulele exactly four months ago today—which you’d already know if you saw what I inflicted on the world when I hit my three-month ukulele anniversary—so I thought I should share another one of the songs I’m noodling around with. Today’s victim, “Side by Side,” which was sung far better by Ukulele Ike.

One unfortunate side effect I’ve noticed about playing the ukulele is that my singing seems to have deteriorated as a result. I never thought of it before, but playing an instrument while singing is sort of like singing while rubbing my stomach and patting my head—there’s not much brain left over to pay attention to what’s going on with my throat. I hope that will improve as the playing comes more naturally to me. (Please tell me it will improve!)

In any event, here it is, flubs and all!

As part of my four-month anniversary celebration, I also recorded my take on George Formby’s “Why Don’t Women Like Me?”—I’ve absolutely fallen in love with Formby, have joined the George Formby Society, and am considering attending a Formby convention in Blackpool—but I haven’t decided whether to share that with any save the new uke friends I’ve made in the UK.

We’ll see.

I thought I pretty much knew everything about comics. But thanks to The Superhero Book: The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Comic-Book Icons and Hollywood Heroes, I just learned a couple of things more. And in case you didn’t know these two facts either …

Charlton Comics was created by two guys who met in jail

Charlton was the home of such superheroes as Captain Atom (co-created by Steve Ditko years before he went on to co-create Spider-Man), The Question (where I got my first taste of Ditko’s Ayn Randian pontificating long before I ever encountered his Mr. A), and others.

But it all began because someone got arrested for copyright infringement:

In the early 1930s, Italian immigrant John Santangelo, a bricklayer, was encouraged by a girlfriend to produce a magazine that printed the lyrics to popular songs. His effort landed him behind bars for copyright infringement. In jail, he got a crash course in copyright law, courtesy of fellow inmate Edward Levy, a disbarred lawyer, and they joined forces upon their release to start a legitimate publishing house, Charlton.

Which basically means, no copyright infringement—no Watchmen!
(more…)

I used the Everyday iPhone app to snap a picture of myself each day from March 23, 2011-March 23, 2012. Can you perceive me getting a year closer to death, one day at a time?

I’ll be in Salt Lake City next weekend attending the World Horror Convention, which was last in that city in 2008.

As you can see from this photo of Gary Braunbeck, Lee Thomas, Nicholas Kaufmann, and me, things got UGLY back then!

But I’m not up for a Stoker this year, so there’ll be no need to wrassle other nominees. My pal Gene O’Neill, though, who’s up for three Stokers, had better watch out.

Aside from the awards banquet, where I’ll be a co-presenter for one of the categories, you’ll be able to find me on a Stephen King panel at 10:00 a.m. Friday (will any of you be awake?) along with Rocky Wood, Jason Brock, Blake Casselman, and Michael R. Collings. I’m sure that the average audience member will know as much about King as I do, but I’ll do my best.

Where else will you be able to find me? Well, if you’ve been following my con-going exploits, then you surely already know! (more…)