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MY LIFE IN HORROR: A COLD, LITTLE ROOM
30/8/2017
 Memory is a terrible medium, at least in terms of accuracy and specificity. Casually peruse any random selection of studies on the matter, and you will find ample evidence as to how distorted, malleable and epehemeral the medium can be. What we perceive and purportedly record is influenced by so many factors, even upon its initial experience, that, in the years and decades after, original events become as much fable or myth as any written or contrived story we might consume. Bias, intention, agenda; ideological or tribal identification...all of these and more impact upon the nature of memory, allowing it to be subtly softened and re-written, to the point that what exists in our minds, the events we recount to ourselves, become more matters of personal mythology than any journalistic or documentary record.
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 My Life In Horror
Every month, I will write about a film, album, book or event that I consider horror, and that had a warping effect on my young mind. You will discover my definition of what constitutes horror is both eclectic and elastic. Don’t write in. Also, of necessity, much of this will be bullshit – as in, my best recollection of things that happened anywhere from 15 – 30 years ago. Sometimes I will revisit the source material contemporaneously, further compounding the potential bullshit factor. Finally, intimate familiarity with the text is assumed – to put it bluntly, here be gigantic and comprehensive spoilers. Though in the vast majority of cases, I’d recommend doing yourself a favour and checking out the original material first anyway. This is not history. This is not journalism. This is not a review. This is my life in horror. You’ve Been On My Nerves For A Long Time  My Life In Horror
Every month, I will write about a film, album, book or event that I consider horror, and that had a warping effect on my young mind. You will discover my definition of what constitutes horror is both eclectic and elastic. Don’t write in. Also, of necessity, much of this will be bullshit – as in, my best recollection of things that happened anywhere from 15 – 30 years ago. Sometimes I will revisit the source material contemporaneously, further compounding the potential bullshit factor. Finally, intimate familiarity with the text is assumed – to put it bluntly, here be gigantic and comprehensive spoilers. Though in the vast majority of cases, I’d recommend doing yourself a favour and checking out the original material first anyway. This is not history. This is not journalism. This is not a review. This is my life in horror. Obnoxious, Self Righteous Sadists Bit of a challenge, this. The ghost is right up in my face. Tell the story of how I became a teenage smoker while skipping over the guy who gave me my first cigarette, as well as intoning the sounds-good-but-is-actually-total-bullshit advice of ‘if you feel like you’re getting addicted, cut down, and if it starts to affect your breathing, really stop’? 
My Life In Horror Every month, I will write about a film, album, book or event that I consider horror, and that had a warping effect on my young mind. You will discover my definition of what constitutes horror is both eclectic and elastic. Don’t write in. Also, of necessity, much of this will be bullshit – as in, my best recollection of things that happened anywhere from 15 – 30 years ago. Sometimes I will revisit the source material contemporaneously, further compounding the potential bullshit factor. Finally, intimate familiarity with the text is assumed – to put it bluntly, here be gigantic and comprehensive spoilers. Though in the vast majority of cases, I’d recommend doing yourself a favour and checking out the original material first anyway. This is not history. This is not journalism. This is not a review. This is my life in horror. I Was Born A Big Strong Woman  My Life In Horror
Every month, I will write about a film, album, book or event that I consider horror, and that had a warping effect on my young mind. You will discover my definition of what constitutes horror is both eclectic and elastic. Don’t write in. Also, of necessity, much of this will be bullshit – as in, my best recollection of things that happened anywhere from 15 – 30 years ago. Sometimes I will revisit the source material contemporaneously, further compounding the potential bullshit factor. Finally, intimate familiarity with the text is assumed – to put it bluntly, here be gigantic and comprehensive spoilers. Though in the vast majority of cases, I’d recommend doing yourself a favour and checking out the original material first anyway. This is not history. This is not journalism. This is not a review. This is my life in horror. They Just Worked On Him. The Way They’re Working On You. No rewatch, this month. This is childhood trauma writ large, and while I have rewatched as an adult, it’s probably been a decade. Let’s see how deep we can get with the aid of memory and alcohol. MY LIFE IN HORROR I NEVER HAD A SON
22/1/2017
 My Life In Horror
Every month, I will write about a film, album, book or event that I consider horror, and that had a warping effect on my young mind. You will discover my definition of what constitutes horror is both eclectic and elastic. Don’t write in. Also, of necessity, much of this will be bullshit – as in, my best recollection of things that happened anywhere from 15 – 30 years ago. Sometimes I will revisit the source material contemporaneously, further compounding the potential bullshit factor. Finally, intimate familiarity with the text is assumed – to put it bluntly, here be gigantic and comprehensive spoilers. Though in the vast majority of cases, I’d recommend doing yourself a favour and checking out the original material first anyway. This is not history. This is not journalism. This is not a review. This is my life in horror. I Never Had A Son  Every month, I will write about a film, album, book or event that I consider horror, and that had a warping effect on my young mind. You will discover my definition of what constitutes horror is both eclectic and elastic. Don’t write in. Also, of necessity, much of this will be bullshit – as in, my best recollection of things that happened anywhere from 15 – 30 years ago. Sometimes I will revisit the source material contemporaneously, further compounding the potential bullshit factor. Finally, intimate familiarity with the text is assumed – to put it bluntly, here be gigantic and comprehensive spoilers. Though in the vast majority of cases, I’d recommend doing yourself a favour and checking out the original material first anyway. This is not history. This is not journalism. This is not a review. This is my life in horror. I Wasn’t Born With Enough Middle Fingers BY GEORGE DANIEL LEA"For my part, I had no idea, no idea, that immense, corporate outfits such as Marvel or DC were capable of producing work so deviant, so artistic; so far removed from their standard stock in trade."  George Daniel Lea takes over Kit Power's My Life in Horror with a response to Kit's article last month on A Death in The Family. A Response: Arkham House: A serious House on a Serious Earth, is a fascinating overview on a powerful and important comic and its impact on George as a writer. My earliest experiences of comics consisted of the late 1980s/early 1990s annuals of 2000 AD that, back then, were standard stocking filler fare.
A far cry from the super hero comics that dominated mainstream markets (in certain respects, outright parodying their conventions), 2000 AD consisted (and consists still) of a massive variety of on-going franchises (such as Judge Dread, Slaine, Rogue Trooper and ABC Warriors) as well as shorter-lived, experimental works that many writers of not only comic books, but also novels, TV series and even feature films cut their teeth on. Back then, I wasn't sophisticated enough to understand the nuances of those stories; their references to wider genre conventions (though I would become so, by and by): my appreciation of them was almost entirely aesthetic and highly visceral. MY LIFE IN HORROR: A DEATH IN THE FAMILY
9/11/2016
 Our Life In Horror Every month, I will write about a film, album, book or event that I consider horror, and that had a warping effect on my young mind. You will discover my definition of what constitutes horror is both eclectic and elastic. Don’t write in. Also, of necessity, much of this will be bullshit – as in, my best recollection of things that happened anywhere from 15 – 30 years ago. Sometimes I will revisit the source material contemporaneously, further compounding the potential bullshit factor. Finally, intimate familiarity with the text is assumed – to put it bluntly, here be gigantic and comprehensive spoilers. Though in the vast majority of cases, I’d recommend doing yourself a favour and checking out the original material first anyway. This is not history. This is not journalism. This is not a review. This is my life in horror. I Happen To Be Crazy. Not Stupid. Author’s note: The below was written on 3rd November, before the recent US presidential election result. I have never been less happy that my gut was right. I have never been more afraid for the future than I am right now. Please be kind to each other. The world is going to need a lot of that in the months ahead, I suspect. The bastards locked the door. K In a final analysis, I got it because it was cheap.  My Life In Horror
Every month, I will write about a film, album, book or event that I consider horror, and that had a warping effect on my young mind. You will discover my definition of what constitutes horror is both eclectic and elastic. Don’t write in. Also, of necessity, much of this will be bullshit – as in, my best recollection of things that happened anywhere from 15 – 30 years ago. Sometimes I will revisit the source material contemporaneously, further compounding the potential bullshit factor. Finally, intimate familiarity with the text is assumed – to put it bluntly, here be gigantic and comprehensive spoilers. Though in the vast majority of cases, I’d recommend doing yourself a favour and checking out the original material first anyway. This is not history. This is not journalism. This is not a review. This is my life in horror. Sickness Will Surely Take The Mind |
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