10/28/2005 - ONE day???

Tonight, it'll be me, my tent, and droplights, 'til the wee hours, trundling props out of the basement to the backyard, stringing lights, making last-minute adjustments. I'm psyched. I'm also tired, getting sick with a cold, and feeling very stressed. Still psyched, tho. Just gotta live through this.

Tomorrow, the gates open. I can't believe it's time already. I'm certain I'll still be outside, pounding signs into the ground and adjusting the armatures of my motorized props while TOTs trot through... my worst nightmare.

10/20/2005 - Wait a damn minute...

What a difference a day makes. It was only yesterday that I was carping about my wife's despair, and now today, she has snagged her dream job... a work-at-home position like she had before she was fired. It will work out great, because it'll keep the kids out of aftercare, and it'll be a job we can take with us when we move. *sigh*

In spite of good news, I got almost no sleep at all last night, worrying about this damned haunt. So many variables and what-ifs, so many loose ends and projects to finish. I'm more confident this morning that it 'twil be done, but I've gotta get some rest. And, I've got to keep from changing things! I built my heart fountain last night, then dreamed up a cooler way to do it around 3am, and I've just got to do it! As I said in the halloween Forum, perfection is a cruel mistress...

10/19/2005 - I have a list in my pocket...

...and no memory anymore. There are a bunch of things, very important things, left to do for the event, and I'm running out of steam. To make things worse, my sainted wife is stressing about her unemployment predicament, which boils my soul every time I think of it. I got to see her smile once today, when I ran back in after leaving for work with the newspaper in hand, opened to the page 2 press release for the sideshow. It was nice to see her smile, if ever so briefly, and for something so trivial.

Lots to do. Something like 10 days to go... I stopped counting, since days and nights are a blur of activity. I hope to visit my friend's haunt tonight with the kids, and trade kudos, invite him over to mine. Maybe that'll recharge me.

List:

Laminate banners

Mount signs

Finish heart fountain

Finish Frankenstein

Finish wolfman's claws (Ironic, the ideas that came first are done last...)

Make pillar mounts for chains (to keep kids from touching the exhibit)

Finish the grudge ghost

I did make my soundtrack for the interior yesterday, and it's not bad... worked on my barker soundtarck as well (for the outside.)

I need more time... can we move the holiday to Thanksgiving?

10/14/2005 - 17 days... wait, it's only 14!!!

It's all over. All that time I thought I'd have has dribbled away, under the heat of illness and surgery and recuperation. I'm having a lot of trouble placing press releases and signs around with only 1/2 the props finished. I'm trying to work harder but it's an uphill climb. Will I endure? Absolutely. When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.\

Started the Creeper prop last night, smoothed out the grudge girl for casting, and have a whole weekend ahead with no wife to enslave my kids into helping me finish up some props. that's the optimistic paln, anyway... more likely, I'll be getting in a few uninterrupted minutes here and there while breaking up fights and making waffles. Nonetheless, it's crunch time. Only one more weekend left for building, then it's over.

Feels like a wedding... so much preamble and planning, and I know it'll be done before I can blink.

10/4/2005 - 28 Days later...

Everything will be in full swing.

Had a few health issues push me down for a week or two, and the looming 'procedure' coming on Friday, but it's been full steam ahead for this years' haunt otherwise. Got the church project done a month ahead, and now have time just for halloween. The alien and the mummy are done, and the schedule looks like it's right on. Happy as a clam, I am. Here's some links for the projects I'm working on:

http://www.hauntpics.com/gallery/displayimage.php?album=lastup&cat=10091&pos=1

http://www.hauntpics.com/gallery/displayimage.php?album=lastup&cat=10091&pos=0

9/14/2005 - 46 days...

I am on a self-imposed Halloween break... must finish the church stuff first... can't keep melding the sacred and profane. It ain't easy not working on Halloween, but I'm focused and intent on repainting the stations first (see my first blog, 'sacred and profane', for background.)

That's not to say I haven't been doing things in other ways... I did just make up the advertising posters, upgraded the website, and made up the exhibit and warning signs... I also bought some 'rusty' chain from Party City for my barricade, and a wig for my Ju-Jon ghost.

Paint is flying... the stations are getting done in  record time now, two per week. I may be done by this time next week, and then it's smooth sailing to Oct. 31. Birthday is somewhere in between, and I'm getting nothing but Home Depot gift cards... huzzah!

9/4/2005 - The Wizard of Odd

There we were, mid afternoon on the midway, bellies full of corndogs and soda, kids having seen every cow, chicken, sheep and pig's butt in the county, having ridden on so many rides that the boy on my shoulders was exhausted. That's when we approached the rows of gaily painted banners, boastful of exhibits that we knew we'd never actuallly see, and a few that might be easy to pull off with a crowd of tired, easily entertained corn dog eaters.

There was Poobah, the 75-ish dwarf, looking wonderfully twisted, standing next to a leopard-print outfitted young blonde, and a gruff looking, tired man doing a slow, painful bally. I knew he was Chris Christ, partner to Ward Hall, the owner of the sideshow we were standing in front of, but his personality led me to believe he'd be very little help to a rube asking him if Ward was back from his walk.

We had seen Ward briefly, in the throngs milling along the midway, as he was going south and we north. I must admit it was his ears that first attracted my eye, jutting out from his balding head like two potato skins, but it was his bright red slacks that confirmed his presence and identity as he disappeared into the traffic, maybe heading for some lunch at the concessions we'd just come through. I said, "That's him!", and my wife urged me to follow, but I let him go... a carny should enjoy what little free time he has between acts.

We gave Chris our $8.00 for the four of us, and I know I was staring at him a little too closely, because he eyed me with a mix of suspiscion and disgust, or maybe disdainful indifference, I can't say. We entered the tent, and the world suddenly turned bright orange, and quite empty. Gone were the exhibits that we'd seen last time around, except for the giant Chinese mummy. I felt a wave of horror, as the words of the fat man, Bruce, echoed in my ears from two years' ago... "Most of the gaffs are for sale on ebay... the show is closing this year." Looked like he was right... there were a few makeshift stages on three sides, with some familiar props.

The show began, with two charming but slightly dusty young ladies, alternating performances... walking up a sword ladder, twisting a head, getting sliced in pieces, posing as a spider and a snake with human heads. Then, there was John, a blockhead whom I recognized from 2003, who did his thing with an icepick. Beside some choice pics for Ward to autograph, I also brought a cool shot of John sleeping at the entrance to the show from two years ago, with a python curled around his arm. To me, it was a fine portrait, not just in terms of color and contrast, but of a working, tired carny trying to catch a brief nap between blowoffs, trusting enough to let a big snake crawl over him while he snored.

I cornered him after he left the stage, and quietly pointed out the picture to him, which he found amusing and less-than-flattering, and promised an autograph as soon as he was done, as he was pitching a $1 blowoff show in another room of the tent, for anyone interested in seeing a guy pushing needles around in his flesh.  I wasn't, as I was keeping my family in that hot tent way too long, but my wife urged me to stay, as they were going to get some drinks. She knew how important this day was to me, and left me alone in a tent full of... nothing.

The blowoff act was going on behind some tent walls to my left, and I watched and waited for John to reappear. Some folks milled out of the show, perhaps finding it too gross or boring. Then, another show started, and the two dusty ladies began their pitch once again. I stood off to the side, waiting for something to happen, when I spotted him again... the red pants walking slowly past a slip in the rear tent wall near the living quarters backstage.

A split second passed, and my mind raced through options until I let go of logic, and headed straight out the back flap. It's always easier to ask forgiveness than get permission in amoment like this, though I was sure to stopped by someone.

I wasn't.

"Mr. Hall?", I asked, and the old man spun on his heel and smiled broadly.

"Well, hello," he began, thrusting out his free hand, "How've you been?"

We'd never met, but this was a man in his 60th year in the carny biz, so I guess being genial had gotten him more opportunities than otherwise. I immediately shook his hand, and was put at ease by his warmth and good nature, in spite of his being accosted by a weirdo in a flaming skullcap approaching him outside his trailer. Or maybe, it was a disarming gesture that had kept him from being assaulted by nuts over the years. Either way, there we were... fan and icon.

I told him how inspired I was by him, and how I'd been to his shows over the years since I was a tot, and how I was preparing a sideshow attraction back in Jersey with a monster theme... he seemed to be interested, and looked at the logo on the booklet I prepared for him, a scrapbook of photos of the various gaffs and banners I'd designed for my sideshow.

"Dr. Slickshill's Sideshow of Monstrous Oddities... very nice... yes, that's a very good name." he said, flipping through the pages. I thanked him, and assured him that he could peruse the book at his leisure, to let him off the hook of hanging around with me too long... he appeared to be carrying a large stack of newspapers in his arm, and it didn't look comfortable. I produced the photo I'd wanted autographed, and he said he'd never seen it before, so I offered him copies that I'd brought for just such an instance, which he gladly accepted. I told him they were from a website of a Florida newspaper, and he signed it with great care and finesse.

He asked if I'd ever seen the museum show, and I said yes, several times, most recently in 2003 during the retirement tour. He assured me that it was all still intact and in storage down in Florida, where he lives when he's not on the midway. This was a great relief to me, as it offered the hope that maybe I'd get to see it all one more time, maybe next year. Then, he offered me a paper, just as John came back to join us.

"Look, Poobah made the front page," he said, and offered another paper to John. There he was, the 70-ish dwarf, eating fire on the cover of the morning paper. Ward turned back to me and said the single coolest thing I'd heard that day, something that put me completely at ease and for just a fleeting second, I felt part of the great carny conspiracy.

"I got this whole stack of papers for fifty cents!" he cried, and we all laughed. John mentioned something about the pictures I'd shown him earlier, and suddenly, Ward was gone... the wizard had disappeared behind the curtain, to the sanctity beyond the door of his trailer.

I gave John his picture, and he signed the other for me. We talked a bit about my sideshow, and he made some suggestions as to how I could go about expanding on the idea, something about approaching Six Flags with the idea. It really didn't matter what he said at that point, however constructive it was... I had just shook hands and got a fleeced newspaper from Ward Hall, the King of Showmen... John could've recited an egg salad recipe and offered to let me into the trailer with the naked snake lady, and I would still be in la-la land over meeting the wizard.

On the ride home, I showed my kids the autographs, and my wife said, "You know, they were hiring... maybe you should've brought some of your stuff to show him."

I smiled, and explained that I had done just that, and suddenly the thought of producing gaffs for the King washed over me in one of those rare moments of bravado.

"You know", I said, beginning a design project in my mind, "That snake-girl gaff looked pretty cheesy..."

9/2/2005 - Ready for the weekend...

Maybe we'll have some fun this weekend... going to the Great Allentown Fair for rides, fried nonsense, sugar free creme soda and a visit to the World of Wonders Sideshow. This man...

...is Ward Hall. He's in his 70's,  has been a carny since running away to join a circus at 15, and runs the World of Wonders, America's last touring sideshow. He is one of my sources of inspiration in this crazy world, and  I have high hopes of meeting him this weekend. I have prepared a little package introducing my sideshow haunt ideas to him, and have printed out a few pictures I hope to get him to autograph. IF he'll see me, of course.

Enjoy the holiday, everyone!

8/29/2005 - 63 days...

I awoke Sunday with a sharp pain in my throat, which made it difficult to swallow... so, naturally, I found time to work on props.

How hard is it, exactly, to sit down in front of a skeleton and apply gunk and paint? Compared to, say, going to a meeting at church where my voice would be non-existent and I'd be sweating and wincing and a total mess?

Without further ado, my wife took the kids to mass and food shopping, which gave me roughly three hours to blast through some much-needed and oft-ignored side projects, which included: creating dials for my Frankenstein life-support chamber, a process involving found jpegs of old electric meters, glued to 1/8 mounting board and cut by hand and backed with acetate to achieve a window effect, and finally, a duplicate copy of the jpeg glued to that, giving me a semi-translucent dail that could be lit from behind and look convincingly like an old junky dial.

Then, it was on to the boxes that the dial would it on. Black foamcore worked great, once I found my rabbet cutter (used to make joinery-quality joints in foamcore). Some old knobs, a few dials, and I had my life-support electrical bits.

Then, I moved on to my alien FCG... adding elbows, forearm texture, sash cord and basecoat to him...

Finally, I turned to my two-headed mummy, and in a fevered pitch, gave him the delightful blue cheese patina you see here...

... then the car pulled up, and it was off to take in the groceries.

A question... why is time stolen always so valuable and enriching?

8/15/2005 - 78 Days...

The sacred and profane war continues... split time this weekend between drawing a monsignor's portrait in pencil, painting a station of the cross, and building my fiji mermaid. It made sense to spend as much time in the nice, cool dungeon than outside in the 105 degree humidity. Bought some blucky's yesterday... my first ever. Been working with those little ratchetty guys, but need something full-size on a small scale budget.

Here's the mermaid...

... note the reference materiels to her left and right. Dicotomy...

8/8/2005 - Clean House or Haunted House?

Do I have to choose?

Apparently, so... the Fiji Mermaid skeleton that I started on Friday night, a few inspired twists of wire and some foam core, sat untouched the rest of the weekend, despite my deep desire to get going on it. I even had a camera nearby to record the steps as a tutorial, but for some reason, my sinus-infected spouse woke up Saturday morning with a deeper desire to clean the house top to bottom, having come off a week of putting up an out-of-town house guest where little got done except entertain.

Things I've never seen before were dusted and cleaned... sofas were ripped apart and vacuumed in places where cheerios feared to tread but somehow became lodged, beds were stripped and pillows were aired out. Clothes were washed and folded and put away in such quantities that we ran out of hangers and drawer space. My back is ruined from hauling things from the basement to the second floor all day. And the monsters in my studio remained unfazed. Maybe tonight I'll pay them a visit. At least, they have a clean place to live.

8/5/2005 - 87 Days...

...and what do I have to show for it?

Half an alien FCG, needing arms; most of his chamber, needing assembly. Pieces that need to be combined to create the heart of dracula. Half a pair of wolfman hands. A split-open skull of Frankenstein, awaiting his life support chamber to be finished. A few pickled punks, some ugly taxidermy, a tent, my banner art... even with these, my sideshow of monsters is still a glimmer in my eye as time ticks down quickly, despite a start date of last November filled with reams of scribbled ideas and copious study and construction. In spite of my snarky claim that this was being done "while you were all watching TV", a stolen bit of boasting from another obsessive creator I read about in Roadside America, who builds houses out of walnut shells or something, I forget...

It's come down to time. It always does. But, it also comes down to commitments made by me, from me, so I've no one to blame but the Dr. and his fiendish plans... desires that scream to be fulfilled to form a sort of legacy should his rotten immune system succumb to the growing number of attacks that plague it, and find the Dr. pushing up blood-red daisies far sooner than his age should allow.

Time has split me into two very different directions, both emanating from the same place, my creative muse. My two creative directions have the same deadline, Oct. 30. Both involve blood and suffering, but are on opposite ends of the spectrum. Call it the battle of the Sacred and the Profane.

See, while the haunt project has been my biggest push, I'm also working on an extended restoration project that requires as much time and care as the construction of my monstrous concepts. This one involves the careful cleaning, repair, and complete repainting of a series of bas-relief, sculpted wall-hangings from my wife's church, depicting the fourteen stages of Christ's death.

No, no, no, the Dr. is not a sainted, holy man by any stretch... his heart is big but black as pitch. But, these things have stared at him from the walls every Saturday night for 13 years, and his desire to do something about their poorly rendered colors and peeling spots culminated in finally pulling one from the wall, restoring it, and presenting it to the church council as a legacy project, pro bono, to which he was lauded and kissed and granted prayers, despite his actual status as a purveyor of haunted nastiness.

It should be noted that, when the Dr. decided to take on this effort, he was unaware of the deadline imposed for it, since it had taken him years to decide to embark on this grand maneuver. Who would've guessed it was the church's 50th anniversary, culminating in a grand mass on October 30, with bishops from all over the world flocking to the tiny community, presumably to partake of hospitalities and marvel at the restorative efforts of a burly, demon-possessed man, who would be exhibiting monsters and creatures of an unholy nature the following day?

Sacred, meet profane. Mingle.