Christmas Eve 2015

0

‘Tis the season for drunken friends and relatives and the giving of gifts. For most people. My Christmas Eve this year is a time for me to reflect on the year and my ghosts of Christmas Past. So, In good spirit I shall share my favorite dear Christmas memories that are close to my spooky heart. It’s an odd Christmas indeed for me as it’s 70 degrees outside and no sign of snow. I live in New York state… never in my life have I had a Christmas that didn’t require a woodstove. It’s like going on a vacation with out the expense.

 

  • When I was three years old, I told my parents I already had toys and I didn’t want a strange man in my house to deliver the toys. I had enough and he should keep out of my house and not eat my cookies.
  • When my Pop Pop (RIP 1927-2005) was alive he would always help me snitch Christmas cookies from Mom mom’s Christmas cookie batches. We had a good time and he taught me swear words in German.
  • One year my parents bought my younger brother and I a bunch of gifts but hid them beneath the couch. So beneath the tree “Santa” only delivered one present for each of us. I got macaroni and cheese and my brother got peanut butter cereal. We were the two happiest kids in the world that my parents were shocked we didn’t bother looking for the other gifts until they pointed out that there was a note on the tree from “Santa” to go on a scavenger hunt. That was the best macaroni and cheese ever.
  • The Christmas I had with my first real boyfriend will always be a pleasant memory. I drove down in the ice and snow to go pick him up three hours away from me and bring him to my house. His first night with me he got stuck with the whole CLAN of my family and all their drinking antics. Thank you for the memory dude! I laughed my ass off the whole time.

I wish all my creeps a Spooky holiday. Whatever holiday you may celebrate.

 

  • Mercy
Advertisements

Happy New Year

0

Devils & Ghouls,

I hope you had a marvelous New Year and may 2014 bring you nothing but positive energy. I for one, was excited to say goodbye to 2013. I will admit however, this was one of the saddest New Years I’ve ever had. I think it’s because that the reality of the world is setting in around me. My grandfather has been gone for quite a while, my grandma sounding so fragile on the phone… I was definitely visited by ghosts of the pasts and wonderful times as a kid that I didn’t really get to cherish when I was little due to the lack of understanding. There I sat, listening to tunes that we used to blare during New Years Eve having flashbacks. The first time I’ve ever done this. I laughed and cried, sat back and remembered. Last night, I wasn’t just reflecting on my 2013 — But all the years I’ve had so far. Some were good and some were bad — But I wouldn’t change a thing.

 

Happy New Year! From Mercy, Will, Harold, and Baby Karloff (the new kitten)

Ponder (Short Story)

0

Ponder

         While others are going about their merry way this time of year, I sit and ponder the days of yesteryear. I have not noticed how much different my world has become until this holiday season. So many people have gone – either due to death or their own personal reasons. Few have stayed, some were gained. The twists and turns of life that brought us all together. Should I sit here and live with regret? I look at the fine red wine before me. Sitting in my empty house. Looking around at the pictures on the wall. The frames hang poorly, slightly crooked on the wall. It’s funny what we take for granted. We don’t pay attention to anything anymore. We sacrifice too much soul up material items, we don’t sit back and really appreciate what was around us at one point in time. At least, not until it’s too late and nothing is left but a mere memory. 

          The echoing of voices and laughter from many years ago fill my mind. The music, the food, the smell of cookies. The tale of Saint Nick and the presents beneath the tree. The wonder and imagination each child has – should still remain in us as we grow older. Imagination and wonder doesn’t equal immaturity. It equals life. Depression in adults is at it’s high, and we allow it. A creative soul is seen as insanity. Yet a greedy soulless individual is seen as sanity. We are the reason we’re so pathetic. Allowing our minds to be altered. Not sitting back and enjoying the friends and family that are good to us. No, we spend too much time focusing on the negatives. Which equal deep thought, and deep thought makes a situation a hundred times worse than if we look at the facts. 

     As a kid, I despised Saint Nick. I didn’t want a strange man to be coming into my house to give me toys. I already had so many toys. I didn’t need anymore. Give them to the poor. Been generous when I was a child. In fact, a majority of my childhood I would play with toys and friends of the imaginary kind! I would be climbing up vast mountains! Writing tales of a young woman named Becky taking a train across America in search of a wanted criminal! Oh the joys of childhood were in my hands whether creepy Saint Nick snuck into my house or not! I kept that vision to this day! Writing tales and songs. Feeling music and inspiration from the universe around me. Oh, but no! You must grow up! 

    I refuse to grow up. I will always have that child in my heart. That child that would snitch Christmas Cookies with my grandfather at three in the morn. The child who was obsessed with the Grim Reaper on the 1938 version of ‘A Christmas Carol’. The child who yearns to be in the realm of music and imagination because that is where my soul belongs! The ticking of the clock interrupts my thoughts as I sit here. A cat meows from beneath the tree and I give out a smile. “You coming to bed?” My lover asks from a room down the hall. “In a minute.” I look out at the falling snow. Each snow flake a glimpse into Holiday Memories. “Thanks for the memories.” I say to myself, holding up the glass of wine. “Cheers, and happy new year.” I know the memories heard me. I know they appreciate the acknowledgment. I got up picking up the kitten and heading to the bedroom. Time to have sugar plums and fairies dancing in my head. 

R.I.P. to those that are no longer with us on the holiday season.

Break out the Victrola!

0

AtHello Creeps!

Today I’d like to share a favorite past time of mine. I adore anything historical or vintage! I have to say I inherited that from my dad. I remember being around 9 or 10, and our area had a power outage either do to a winter storm or a fallen line. Naturally, we started up our kerosine lamps and nibbled on cookies around. My younger brother and I would always try to read or write and contemplate what it would be like to be living in the era when electricity was first put into houses! Could you imagine?

My dad came into the room and it was the first time I laid my eyes on a Victrola.

 

Image found on Google Images.

 

At first, I didn’t know what it was and my dad explained to me that we were going to be listening to some classic records. When I say classic, I mean way back near the early 1900s. We have a copy of Cal Stewart’s comedy recordings from 1901! I have to say I don’t remember if I laughed as hard as I did that night ever again.

From Google Images.

 

It had to be the most interesting thing to me! I don’t know why! I just loved the sound quality and the corny jokes. The way you heard the fuzz on the recording. It sounded so genuine to me. This is what brought my love and obsession for records! That day the power went out!

Cal Stewart was born in 1859 and died in 1919. He was a pioneer in vaudeville and early recording works.

Here’s one of the sides of the record to share with you creeps. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

 

 

Childhood Memory – White Zombie & My first song

0

Hello Creeps.

Whilst at work, I was watching the music video for White Zombie’s More Human than Human. When I was a little girl, I used to hear and watch this video all the time. That is the band that caught my attention with bass. Especially, since a female was on the bass guitar. Me being the little curly haired blonde that I was would secretly pretend I was Sean Yseult.

Image from Google Images.

Image from Google Images.

Yep. Thanks to Sean I was inspired to up the bass. Although it wasn’t easy. I first tried out drums. But drums didn’t feel “me” at all. I felt off. It wasn’t my place nor in my heart. In the school band I was a clarinetist, but at home I would start practicing bass material on this cheapo off-brand bass guitar that was picked up at a fire station garage sale. I’ve always been attracted to the sound of the bass. Whether it’s in a Groovy metal tone such as White Zombie, Heavy Doom like in Type O, and my favorite DISTORTION! For some reason, the sound of the bass felt in my heart. I could relate, pour my heart out and just play for hours.

Old Picture of good ol' Me.

Old Picture of good ol’ Me.

The first song that I came up with was of Halloween creatures. I would stand up in front of my grandma’s dishwasher – so I could see my reflection – and sing as loud and lovely as I could about the moon, the stars, and the “skelskins” (skeletons – gimmie a break! I was 3!). I would continue to sing on about how the creatures weren’t scary at all but how they were my friends. (if that didn’t hint to the fact that I would turn into this:

© Mercy Desdemona 2013

© Mercy Desdemona 2013

I do not know..)

Back to my tale, I would always sing songs that had a sort of story. All coming from my imagination. As a young adult, I see that I am still that person. Music is my calling and will never leave me. Being a vocalist and bass player means a lot to me. It’s where I know everything is okay. It’s where I know my imagination is still alive within me. Creativity never dies. I am proud to be of the imaginative kind. So many people grow up to become the stereotype that you must let dreams die and sacrifice your well being for it all.

That my friends, isn’t the case. What is the point of living life a lie when you could be living the life you’ve always wanted and enjoy it?

Have a dreadful Thursday mourning.

— Mercy Desdemona —

Pizza on my Pick

0

Hello Creeps.

Due to my lack of ability to sleep, I seem to get in these weird deep thinking remembering modes once in a while. I remember when I was a little girl, I would tell my dad stories while we were going places in his truck. One of the family favorites that they seem to love to pick on me about is the tale of Pizza on my Pick.

The tale was about a man who one day decided to sit on a random log. He was sad all because he had pizza on his pick and he didn’t know what to do. His friend the frog hopped away and he was worried about him. He couldn’t get to the stream because it was to far away on foot and he didn’t have a boat-car. (Yeah that’s right, a boat-car.) He cried and cried and tried to play his guitar but he couldn’t because of the pizza on his pick.

I was a very strange child. I would sing and sing and sing in my grandma’s kitchen about the “Moon and the stars and the Skelskins!” I remember watching Beetlejuice when I was younger and it has been my favorite film ever since.

Enough with childhood memories.

– Mercy Desdemona

Nude Hotel Man

0

It’s always odd my creeps to have situations in your life that make you end up saying “Did that really happen?” I thought I would share a traumatizing event with you creepers of the web. Back when I was a sophomore in high school, my good friend and I went on a road trip out of town and stayed at a Holiday Inn. As most teenage girls, we jumped around, caused a ruckus, and just flat out had a lot of fun.

While we were trying to watch some television, we heard a noise from outside. It sounded like children running wild down the hallway. But, when we looked out the peep hole, it was a very overweight man in a tuxedo waddling around the halls. Slightly creeped out that this man was pacing outside our room, we went back to doing our random things of the night.

Hungry began to rear it’s ugly head and we decided to order a pizza. She took up the responsibility of ordering the delicious dinner while I decided to go out and retrieve beverages from the vending machine. While at the machine, I could feel that someone was behind me. I turned around to see that heavy set gentleman practically nude rubbing his stomach and telling me that he needed some mountain dew. He was rather close to me and making me feel uncomfortable. Needless to say, I had a look of horror on my face… sort of like this:

A mouse like girl poked her head out of what I believe to this day was their room and started cheering on Mountain Dew.

I returned to the room with the beverages and my friend was laughing like a complete maniac at my facial expression (similar to the one pictured above incase you have forgotten) and said that my pale complexion got paler (if that’s possible, I do not know).

I have recovered from this event. Also, that was the night I was accused of sleeping next to a Twix Bar, two basketball players said I was the whitest white girl they’ve ever seen, and we scared the pizza man.

Ah, memories. I’m off to rethink my life choices and put a paper bag over my face.

Horrible wishes to you all from deep within my heart.

– Mercy Desdemona