American Horror Story Season 4: The Big Top

Facebook is abuzz with articles today about the sudden realization that writer Douglas Petrie accidentally blabbed the setting of AHS Season 4. It appears the rumors were true, it will be in a circus. Now, in all fairness, Petrie was being interviewed on a Nerdist News podcast and the interviewers tricked him. He wasn't supposed to say anything, though you don't see me complaining.

Nevertheless, it has been confirmed, even if the idea is only rough, as stated by Petrie, "Yes, it does not have a title… but that is the idea. That’s very roughly the idea”. I shake my fist at Ryan Murphy for trying to derail all the Circus rumors that were floating around the web a few months prior. When I first saw one of the creepy fan-made posters for AHS: Circus I got overly excited, so now that it's official I am jubilant.

If you'd like to check out the podcast with the interview here's the link. http://goo.gl/Y8UwVa

Get ready for psycho clowns and guaranteed fright under the big top.

The Web - Excerpt From My Upcoming Novel

Here is a short excerpt from my upcoming novel. Enjoy! 

 The Web

Tec was alone, not digitally, of course, for there were many other avatars around him, but mentally. The night of the party played over on the wall above the bar. He watched in muted silence as he found his precious CeCe on the patio.

Silence. He adored it. He lived in a world of constant noise, virtual and real. Whether it was the chattering of his employees and administrators or the static of the Web, there was always noise. Luckily for him, he could mute it all in his virtual reality.

Around him the avatars of people danced to digital music he couldn't hear and drank their virtual drinks, reveling in the surreal atmosphere of Tec's technological creations. Everything there was sleek and stylish bits of data, clean cut lines of code, and intoxicating information that he controlled. An intricate fabric of false realism.

It had become more popular than the real world, this digitized fantasy land full of partying and risque behavior. Explore other planets, fulfill your darkest sexual desires, or just party in one of the many preprogrammed clubs, sipping on viruses that hack your brain into thinking you're drunk. It's all possible, and it's all just a simple push of a button away.

But Tec wasn't in a festive mood. He didn't want to dance, he didn't want to drink. He just wanted to be alone, so he could think, in the sweet silence.

The large wallscreen above the bar showed Tec and CeCe talking. She looked remarkably unchanged by time. Maybe a little older, though it could have been the dress. And her glow, it was much dimmer than he recalled from the last time they saw each other.

But she was still beautiful, as beautiful as any little girl with eyes wide, ready to take on the world. He remembered the first time he saw her, in that dreadfully outdated showcase of technological evolution. He remembered the name, though his internal monologue pretended he didn't, as if it were far below him. The Great Exhibition.

There was no doubt about it, back then, when he was as young as she was, there was something truly enticing about her. She was fresh, like the first bloom of spring. Her shine was almost dizzying then. She had this unbelievable talent to sense the emotions around her, yet still she retained that youthful bliss of being untainted by it all.

She was an angel, back then. And though, at the time, Tec couldn't experience emotions like she could, when they touched there was a spark of sorts, a tingling kind of sensation that Tec had never encountered in his brief – by comparison – existence.

It wasn't exactly a feeling or an emotion, but just holding her hand or the soft touch of her lips, Tec felt it, more than he had felt anything before. It was a sensation, one that Tec had lived without yet the moment he experienced it he knew he would be chasing it for the rest of his life.

Her touch made him feel alive for the very first time.

It was the sort of alive he figured a living thing felt. It wasn't empty and cold like an unpowered machine. It was a full, vibrating, heavy, here-and-now sense that was truly remarkable.

As the wallscreen played, Tec watched Pride step into the frame. She was beautiful, he could not deny it. She stood opposite Innocence, tall and proud, the queen of the jungle that was New Europe; the mighty trees now towering skyscrapers, the rivers now multilaned roadways, the animals gone, replaced with people who barely cared for anything save for themselves. He watched her on the screen, reliving the night of the party through collective memories saved into this digital landscape he so meticulously created over hundreds of years. And as he watched the two converse, realizing the power behind the dark beauty that stood by his side, he soon forgot of the little girl that had been but a distant memory to him for so long. The girl named Innocence who he had once loved.

Once. Could love be rekindled? He wasn't sure love even existed for him. He had met her before, a long time ago, but Love is as fleeting as childhood. Had he ever truly been in love? Tec couldn't tell.

He watched Innocence leave. For a moment he felt a pinch of something in his chest. Like someone had plucked a string that vibrated and stung his heart. But it was gone before he could realize what it was.

Pride wrapped herself around him tighter. Even then, sitting in a virtual bar of his own making, watching the memory replay itself like a film, away from the rest of the Eternals and their sway, he could feel her, that power that was so intoxicating. Who needed love anyway? Love was for the young, the blind, the innocent. He didn't need anyone. He was Technology. He ruled the world.  

Colors Or Letters?

I seem to be having writer's block with my current book. I know I need to keep writing, but every time I try to sit down and write I just can't, that's partially why I've been working on my blog. So in order to keep up the habit of writing I have decided to work on a series of short blurbs, poems, stories, or whatever they turn into. Now I just have to decide what the series is going to be: colors or letters?

For example, if I did letters, then the series would be 26 parts, each focusing on one of the letters of the alphabet. Colors, on the other hand, could be anywhere from the primary, to the primary and secondary, or any other colors I choose to include. 

Personally, I'm leaning towards colors, just because I think it would be more interesting. So let me know what you think!

A Battle of Light and Dark

Here's a short piece I wrote a while back, stream of consciousness style. 

The sound swirls around me like a tornado of leaves, twisting and twirling through space. Your cries of plea fading in the typhoon. The screeching owls from far away echoing in my brain. So close to you, yet so far away, I plunge into the depths.

My mind a dark abyss, a light at the end of the tunnel. The light grows yet distances itself with each passing second. The mouth in my mind smiles, cold blue lips parting to reveal a treacherous landscape of a rough, decaying tongue and jagged teeth.

I awake to the sound of a rushing stream. My eyes flutter, open, awake. They see for the first time, not clouded by facades of the present or past. Myself, below the river. You are above. Sinking into the rocky silt I glance up at your eyes, the light I was searching for. Your serene face looking down into the river, a reflection of your own despair. The smile vanishes, and your eyes close. My light flickers out, and I am swept down the current and into the greater body of darkness.

Night. Shadow. Darkness. A solitude of great proportion. It is not until ones eyes adjust that they can see the majestic beauty of the night. Quiet. Silence. Serenity. The liquid shadow surrounds me, filling my being with placidity. I float down the abyssal stream in complete solitude, complete introspection, and complete calmness. But life is not meant to be a relaxed journey down the mighty waters of living. Without trepidation one loses sight of what it is to be alive.

And there I am, standing beside you, alive. The memories and feelings of a life passed rush unto me in a flurry of jet streams and rapids. Time freezes as my mind is bombarded by the emotions of all that ever was, and all that ever will be. And as fast as the tide swept in, the intense reincarnation of the feelings of living ebb from my mind. And there I am, standing beside you, alive.

We embrace in an aura of fire, flames licking our bodies with the passion of a newborn phoenix. Though the inferno may scorch me, your healing touch keeps us both cool and protected from the heat. Our eyes meet and I am locked into the light again.

Instantly I am transported to the past. Channels of light cascade down through the leaves in the trees, sparkling on the midsummer’s dew. A cool breeze swims through us. The sound of the stream far off mutes the soft words escaping your lips. White noise erupts in my mind as you whisper those three silent words. The three syllables roll from your perfect lips to my imperfect ears. My body gives way, my soul falling deep past the grass and cold earth and into the calming darkness again.

This vacuum of a place contains not even a wind. Yet the piercing screech of air blowing fiercely past my ears remains. This tangible shadow wraps its dark fingers around me, gripping me tightly in its cold grasp. My mind recalls your eyes. The light I once had. How can I possibly fight with the darkness intruding?

Those three whispered words ping in my mind, echoing and rippling out into the darkness, bringing waves of shining electricity with them. The creature of the void loosens its grip on my body, my mind. The words ping again, the light pulsing in the blackness. The light from your soul becoming tangible in the darkness. The physical manifestation of your brightness surrounds me, lifting me out.

“Never leave again,” Your soft lips whisper warmly onto my ear. Three more words. With you in my arms I feel the light from within. The warmth engulfs us, time slowing to a halt. We gaze into each other’s eyes, into each other’s light. My lips motion, wordless yet exact.

“I promise you,” the light whisper wafts into your ears. “I will never.” 

My Instant Queue: A Netflix Recommendation

I watch way more Netflix than I care to admit. Though, according to my friends, I'm not the only person hooked on instant streaming. Even so, it has to be a bad sign when your friends come to you for advice and suggestions on what to watch. So I thought to myself, “Hey, I can kill two birds with one stone. I could write a blog post about what I'm watching on Netflix.”

Viola! Genius! Now let us begin.

The Brass Teapot

I know, it's a weird title, and you can probably guess the story centers around a brass teapot. But wait! This teapot is magical. It grants its owners wads of cash whenever they feel pain. But the longer they use it the more severe the pain must be to reap the rewards. A great little independent comedy that I suggest if you're looking for a quirky, witty, good time.

Plush

Emily Browning plays Haley, a rock star whose brother, and band-mate, dies of an overdose. In steps the new guitarist, a dark, handsome, mysterious man who might be more into Haley than she realizes. Too bad she's married with children. Soon, Haley finds herself wrapped up in a dark web of adultery, and worse, death. Good thriller to pass the time with, but not ground breaking.

Sherlock

Yes, that's Sherlock Holmes, if you didn't know. Played by the extraordinarily talented Benedict Cumberbatch alongside Martin Freeman as Watson, the contemporary take on Arthur Conan Doyle's beloved sleuth meshes perfectly with modern-day London, bringing familiar stories and characters into the 21^st Century. Irene Adler is a dominatrix. What more could you ask for?

Butter

I don't know what it was about this movie that captured my attention, maybe it was the butter sculpting, or the great performance by Yara Shahidi, or Olivia Wilde being a bad ass stripper, or Jennifer Garner playing the uptight housewife she is so good at. If you're looking for an offbeat dramedy then this one is for you.

American Mary

This is one of those gems you so rarely find on Netflix. It was such a unique story I fell in love with it the first time I watched it. Katharine Isabelle is a knockout as a med-student turned underground body modification surgeon. The movie is gory, dark, and will keep you on the edge of your seat. Aside from the story, I loved seeing Isabelle's character completely transform throughout the film.

American Horror Story: Coven - Up In Flames

With the end of yet another dazzling season of American Horror Story last night, I lay here reflecting on the past several months full of magic and bitchcraft, wondering why it has to end and what is next for the acclaimed horror anthology.

Now, if you haven't seen the season finale of AHS: Coven, do not read ahead. This is your first and only SPOILER ALERT!

At the end of episode 12 I had no idea how they were going to wrap everything up, what with the Seven Wonders just around the corner, a new Supreme to be crowned, and the lurking threat of possibly trickery by Fiona. There were too many loose ends.

So I waited all day to watch it, all the way up until midnight, in fact, because I buy my episodes on Amazon Instant Video (so that I can own them and watch them wherever and whenever I want). I got home, exuberant, flitted up the stairs to my room, sat down, turned the TV on, and watched in awe.

Though the episode did seem to lack a bit of the punch some of the earlier episodes had, I was still pleased with the way the show finished. Cordelia, the downtrodden daughter of the former Supreme, finally rose to the occasion and realized her true power. From about mid-season I knew Cordelia was going to be the next Supreme. She was a true leader, sacrificed so much for the Coven, and injury after injury she fought to keep the witches together and alive, teaching them all how to use their powers.

I was saddened to see Misty unable to return from her hell. She was a favorite character this year. As well as the little clairvoyant, Nan, who I was so pleased to see return from season 1.

It wasn't my favorite season of American Horror Story, but I did enjoy all the wonderful characters, Myrtle Snow in particular. Versatility is a necessity when it comes to AHS, and Frances Conroy has proven herself. I hope she returns for next season.

Speaking of the next season, I have been trying to come up with ideas for what it might be. So far we know it'll take place mostly in 1950, Jessica Lange is practicing her German accent, and will be playing some type of Marlene Dietrich character, who was a famous cabaret performer and happened to star in one of Alfred Hitchcock's films.

Taking those clues into consideration, as well as the random Epcot references from the past few episodes, and Madison's remark about returning to Hollywood, I have a feeling next season is going to be set in Hollywood or Southern California. It would be so cool if it centered around a film set, possibly even Hitchcock's! 

Well, here's to speculating! If you have any ideas or thoughts about what next season could be leave a comment!

The Ballad Of The Songbird

Here is a little snippet from a project I started but have since put on the back burner. Enjoy!

The Ballad Of The Songbird

The songbird was a ghost in the flames of the campfire. Upon a branch the bird sat, silver wings shimmered with the flicker of fire, cooing in tune with the soft melody of song and flute. Little Amelia listened to her mother sing the story of the songbird and watched as the tale unfolded in the blaze.

“The tale of the songbird is both beautiful and tragic,” her mother sang. “It is a tale of love and a tale of magic.”

The flute chimed like the chirp of mid-day birds carried on a clean Spring wind. It was the first time Amelia’s mother and father had performed their gifts together. Her mother, whose voice was the epitome of perfection, a grand scale of pitch and vibrato, matched her father’s enchanting mastery of the flute in a harmony that could rise the sun and set the stars alight.

Within the fire, which sat beneath a blanket of night, on the edge of the woods next to a small cottage where Amelia and her family lived, the image of the silver bird took from the branch and soared through the inferno. The delicate creature’s wings flapped on beat with the whistling of Amelia’s father’s flute.

“By day and by night the songbird flew, toward the Destination it traveled to.”

Clouds appeared within the fire, the songbird dove and weaved around them. “Upon its journey it met its mate.” A second bird appeared, a bit larger and more gray than the other, and began to circle around the songbird. “The two birds entwined in each other’s fate.”

The mother’s voice rang out in the half light of the campfire, sweet and smooth. The father’s flute hit a crescendo, the fire cracked, erupted a plume of embers and smoke filled with the scent of burnt forest wood. Two birds flew out of the commotion, solid as the dirt beneath Amelia’s feet, and landed one on each of her shoulders.

Amelia let out a shrill giggle as the birds chirped along with the music next to her ears, then flew a circuit around her and her parents, before colliding back into the fire to become phantoms again.

The mother smiled to her daughter who watched the vision dance in the heat. The woman’s dark eyes held a sorrow that was masked in the darkness. “But though the power of love is strong, the songbird must sing her deadly song.”

The two birds stopped then in a tree overlooking a mighty temple. The silver bird began to coo a melody Amelia recognized, as her mother sang the same song in a language Amelia couldn’t understand. She had heard her mother sing it before, or hum or whistle it, but she had never asked what it was.

At the end of the song the gray bird disappeared in a wisp of smoke that rose into the night, leaving the songbird alone on the branch in the fire.

“It is destiny that one must die, and that is why the songbird cries,” the mother finished.

The image of the bird ceased with the ending of her father’s flute. The fire flickered with warmth.

“But why did the birdie die?” Amelia asked, looking to her parents with the intense concern of a six-year-old.

“Such things are destiny, my dear,” her mother said.

“It is just a story,” her father reassured before he glanced to the mother. “The moral is some things require sacrifice. Life is full of trades, one thing for another.”

Amelia considered this for a moment, which was long enough for one so young in which a moment was still a significant fraction of life. “That song you sang, what was it?”

Her mother smiled and said, “It is The Ballad Of The Songbird.”

“It was very pretty,” Amelia said.

“Would you like me to teach it to you one day?”

Amelia nodded with excitement.

“Then it is settled.”

“Not tonight, though,” her father said. “It is past the hour for little ones to be in bed.”

“But Papa,” Amelia whined.

“If you don’t get to sleep now, you will be tired all of tomorrow. Remember what I said about trades? On with you!” Amelia’s father stood and ushered the small child away from the fire and into the cottage.

Her mother slowly rose from her seat, faced the fire and sang three notes. With a soft pop the fire extinguished.

Here's Johnny! Well, Eryk, actually.

  After an extended vacation from the world of blogging I have made it one of my New Year's Resolutions to get back into the swing of things. Now before anyone makes a crack about it being the 28th, this was a resolution I came up with just the other day, so it's not like I've been procrastinating or anything. I swear.

  A quick recap of the past year (or two):
- At the turn of 21 I found a new love for Las Vegas, four times.
- I attended my first concert. Fall Out Boy, thank you for returning.
- I wrote a short film. It's in production.
- The car that was the bane of my existence, the source of copious anxiety attacks and late night tow truck encounters, has been murdered! Well, I don't know for a fact, but I like to imagine it's been hung or stabbed repeatedly, maybe even dropped into a deep pit and forced to spread lotion on itself. The magical Debt Fairy has replaced it with a newer car that is much more well behaved.
- I may have developed allergies. I didn't know this was possible. Thank you Santa Ana winds for turning what could have been a wonderfully warm winter into a coughing nightmare. I sounded like a hellbeast from one of the nine circles.
- Spent my first Christmas alone. It was bittersweet. I drove around, looked at all the stores that were closed, spent most of the day watching Netflix, then around 11pm I decided I was hungry. Thank you 7/11 for the DiGornio pizza. But now I can officially say that I am perfectly capable being by myself.
- I tried to get back to the gym again. Failed. I tried working out at home after cancelling my gym membership. Failed. I have made another resolution to start working out...again. In the works. I don't want to talk about it.
- Scared the shit out of my mother at Knott's Scary Farm.
- Developed abandonment issues at work from my manager leaving, then a week after my district manager leaving. 
- Ate some ice cream.
- Discovered my new family-in-law is just as amazing as the rest of my family.
- And got mule-kicked by my genius into writing a new book that I am so very pleased with.

  I forgot how much fun I had last year (or two) until I started writing that list. It's crazy how many things you forget as you go about your life, doing the day to day. That is why I have decided I need to blog, it just has to happen. If I don't record these things that happen I may just forget all about them. And then when I'm aged by wisdom and experience I'll be able to whip out my laptop and show my grandchildren the archaic piece of technology, and that there was this thing called the internet where I used to post ridiculous entries onto a digital journal known as a blog. My grandchildren will laugh and call me a crazy old man, and then go plug themselves into the wall and link up with every other youngin' and their crazy virtual reality. Back in my day people actually lived in reality! Damn whippersnappers.

  So be prepared for I have returned. With my Flaming Sword of Inspiration and my Golden Paladin Buckler of Determination (+3 DET) I will slash into the blogosphere and rain my literary and pop culture vengeance upon my foes! So stick with me. I swear on Styx not to be boring.

-- Eryk