Letters From the Labyrinth 386

Bad Weather

Saturday evening as I write this from my home office along the Susquehanna River in Central Pennsylvania. We live in a rural area, not unlike rural Kentucky, rural West Virginia, rural Vermont, rural Oregon or other places where blue-collar families and not-quite-wealthy-but-certainly-comfortable retirees live amongst trees and fields and maybe one or two Walmarts. Normally this time of year, my office would — positioned as it is on the second floor of our house and facing the river — be filled with the sounds of drunken vacationing rich people and drunken vacationing pretending-to-be-rich people racing up and down the river on jet skis and blasting Jimmy Buffet songs from their anchored boats and clogging the two-lane road in front of our house. But there is none of that tonight, because it is too hot for watersports or any other kind of outdoor recreation.

Think about that for a moment. It’s too hot to be on or in the water.

Last week, I wrote here that this heatwave was the meteorological equivalent of a conversation with Patrick Tomlinson — malignant, corpulent, and annoying. But given how this bloated, oppressive monstrosity continues to loom over much of the United States (I’m talking about the heatwave, rather than Rick), lingering and glowering like an angry old man, I wonder if it might be more accurate to compare the weather to Joe Biden or Donald Trump. It’s a shit-show, for sure, no matter which of these two old men you vote for, and nothing will really change, but these are the choices we’ve been given — Jabba the Hutt or Grandpa Sawyer from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre mythos, (with RFK hanging on the side of the stage like some halfwit Patrick Bateman, with none of the charm or the intellect).

The only thing I know is that they’re sticking around, and so is the heatwave.

It’s an hot, ugly, dangerous time in America, and it’s only going to get hotter, uglier, and more dangerous. My advice to you is to spend less time online. Spend less time scrolling through TikTok or Insta or falling down YouTube rabbit holes. Instead, interact in real space with people you care about. Find things that bring you joy, and bring others joy, as well. Then invest in those things. November is still a long way off, and many of you are gonna burn out long before then, if you don’t take a step back now.

And this heat is not the sort of weather you want to burn out in.

Yes, I know how shitty things are in the world right now. You don’t need to fill the comments with “But what about…?” and “Well, actually…” and “Well I’m choosing President Coke over President Pepsi and this is why…”. Trust me, I’m fully aware. But as John Lennon once said:

If you go carrying pictures of chairman Mao
You ain't gonna make it with anyone anyhow

But you know what he says right after that?

Don't you know it's gonna be all right?

And it will be, in the end.

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About thirty minutes after I wrote that, the news broke that there was a shooting at Trump’s rally here in PA. It’s now 8:26pm as I write this next segment, and details are still fluid and changing.

One thing that is unnerving is how quickly falsehoods and rumors are spreading. Going to be a lot of that going forward, I fear. People on BOTH sides have been skeptical of the media for years, but that skepticism is now solidified into something else. What’s worse, people no longer believe their onw eyes and ears and other senses.

“Strange days indeed”, to quote something else by John Lennon.

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Strange New Moons is a new werewolf anthology from French Press (publisher of anthologies such as The Perfectly Fine Neighborhood, and books by Somer Canon, Stephen Kozeniewski, and many more). It is edited by Kozeniewski and Kayleigh Dobbs, and features brand-new fiction by Mary SanGiovanni, Simon Clark, Amanda Headlee, Tim Lebbon, Somer Canon, John Durgin, and Rebecca Rowland. The Kickstarter is live now. View it and the details here.

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The special Lettered Edition of my novel WITH TEETH is a little more than halfway sold out. I suspect the rest will go pretty fast, especially given that it’s shipping right away. This edition is limited to 52 copies. It is signed by me. Red cover foil and frontis art by Alex McVey. You can get your copy via Thunderstorm Books. And hey, while you’re browsing, Thunderstorm also has some gorgeous limited editions available by Bryan Smith, Mary SanGiovanni, the Sisters of Slaughter, Ronald Kelly, Edward Lee, Christopher Golden, Somer Canon, John Wayne Comunale, and many, many, many more. Click here to view everything that’s in stock (including my book).

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Currently Watching: Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F (Netflix), Civil War (Prime), The Boys season 4 (Prime) and Mayor of Kingstown season 3 (Paramount+)

Currently Reading: Pillowface Rules by Kristopher Rufty and Sociopath: A Memoir by Ph.D. Patric Gagne

Currently Listening: Desert Oracle Radio

Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F has a sweet, nostalgic charm to it. There’s no new ground broken, really, but if you’re a fan of 1 and 2 (we won’t talk about the abomination that was 3) then it’s a fine way to spend 90 minutes. I laughed, and I smiled at all the feel good callbacks. But then I pretty much forgot about it. And I’m a kid who walked around quoting the first movie for most of my senior year in high school. Bottom line — a bit of nostalgic fun but not exactly “must see”.

Civil War, however…

Look. I get a lot of crap for saying that Kirsten Dunst is among my Top Ten favorite actresses. And that list, by the way, in order:

1. Julianne Moore

2. Clea Duvall

3. Meryl Streep

4. Audrey Hepburn

5. Natalie Portman

6. Jenna Fischer

7. Kirsten Dunst

8. María Conchita Alonso

9. Edie Falco

10. Stacey Dash (yes, I know she’s problematic. But she’s also a very capable actress when she’s got the right script)

But I digress.

Civil War gives Kirsten Dunst a chance to shine, and she really does — doing stuff with facial expressions and body language that is DeNiro-level excellent. She’s just so good in this. A masterful performance that elevates this film above your standard “Lets have lots of big sweeping explosions” fare. Like if Independence Day was a straight drama rather than a sci-fi shooter, and Will Smith’s role had been played by Denzel Washington.

The movie itself is a lot of… well, fun isn’t the right word. But I enjoyed it immensely. Recommended.

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Work Updates:

We expanded Vortex Books and Comics this past week, opening a new annex. You can read all about it here. I’d figured I’d have it open for business by month;s end but instead had it open for business today.

That, and car repairs, took most of my time this past week. And my father is having some health problems and his sister, my aunt, passed yesterday (it was expected and we are glad she’s at peace) but in a nutshell… I’m behind on everything except Patreon. Hope to have edits done on BENEATH THE LOST LEVEL by this coming weekend. Sunday night and Monday will be spent on Splatterpunk Award stuff, Scares That Care stuff, and contacting the folks who chose the Brian Keene Tour perk for DEAD FORMAT.

Thanks to all of you for your patience and understanding.

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And that does it for this week. Thanks, as always, for reading. I’ll see you back here again next Sunday.

— Brian Keene