All Hallow's Eve

A few photos of and links to Halloween fun, for those of you who found yesterday's marshmallow-headed epic verse a bit too much to swallow. Happy All Soul's Eve, kids.

The result of my first-ever trip to buy plants


Arachnophilia: Lucky the seven-legged spider lives in Seattle.
Photo by Tara.


This scare bear lives in Gillham Park


My makeshift costume on Friday. Used brother's old spacesuit. When people saw how faded the flag was, they thought I was making a political statement. I told them I'd just been lost for a long time and my patriotism had lost a bit of its luster as well. I kind of look like a past-his-prime British rocker. Photo by Liz.


Being green: Andrew makes it look easy


America, friend of the people. Taken in Hamburg cafe/curiosity shop near Brigittenstrasse.


Those old pumpkin fields back home

For some humorous content regarding Halloween, I've got a couple of suggestions. There was that really funny article about werewolves in the Onion, for one. Also, Jeremiah Tucker of the Joplin Globe takes a look today at the holiday he's come to call All Hallow's sleEveless and pants-less. You can read that here.

For those of you more inclined to celebrate the month of October than the Halloween holiday, hearken back to the October of 1900 with Helen Hunt Jackson's "October's Bright Blue Weather," a favorite poem of my grandfather's back in his day.

Also, I was going to put together a mix of Halloween-themed tracks, but it looks like I've been beat to the punch by this guy from Russia. Instead I'd like to share this spooky-sounding freak-out by Kontakt Mikrofoon Orkest, plucked from the latest Cherrystones comp, Cherrystones Word.

And what would a Halloween post be without an embedded video from Echo and the Bunnymen?

Enjoy!

Lost in Halloweenland

I'm pretty sure there's a werewolf on the top floor of my apartment.

When I stepped into the building last Sunday I heard an unnatural baying coming from upstairs. It could just be that the new neighbors have an especially large and terrifying sounding dog, but with a full moon last Friday and Halloween at the end of the month, I decided to play it safe and buy a case of silver bullets on eBay. I got them in the mail today and have since fashioned a casing for them which I wear like a sash underneath my sport coat. It's a reassuring feeling, if a bit cumbersome.

Aside from this incident, I'm not sure I'm really feeling Halloween this year. Things seem scary enough as it is. Just last weekend there were three shootings within a mile of my place. And there's a lot of other things to worry about as well: Strange people roaming the streets at night, yelling obscenities at unseen (imaginary?) companions. People driving their cars like idiots. Past-due bill notices. Werewolves in my apartment.

Maybe that's why most adults don't get into Halloween as much as their kids. They've come to realize that real life is much scarier than any Halloween-themed folk tale.

On the other hand, Halloween imagery can be a powerful throwback to childhood, which is exactly what today's post is all about. In September 2001, while living in a former Nervenklinik converted into student apartments in Bad Godesberg, Germany, I experienced what was probably the most intense fever of my life. I handled it the way I handle most crises -- by writing my way through it. The result was a curiously childish foray into my childhood associations with the holiday. I whittled the largely incoherent writing into a ballad called "The Cabin of Eternal Halloween," which you can read here.

Apologies to those of you who have seen this before, but even you might find something new in the director's commentary following the poem. Thanks for reading, and Happy Devil's Night.

Happy 181st Birthday, Hugh!

Editor's Note: This birthday tribute is pretty much an exact replica of last year's shout out to the Kansas Hermit, but if you read through to the end you'll find a few photos recently made available by the Kansas State Historical Society.

Today Lt. Colonel Hugh Cameron would have been 181 years old. Who was Hugh Cameron? Basically he was a decorated Civil War veteran and free-stater who for one reason or another decided to live in an old wooden piano box along the bluffs of the Kansas river in his later years, earning him the nickname, "The Kansas Hermit." In the early days of Lawrence he had jobs including Brigadier General, Justice of the Peace and ferryboat operator. But he is much more than that. He is an inspiration.

I first happened upon the plaque at 5th and Louisiana streets the morning of July 5, 2001. I was still awake after an all-night Independence Day celebration, and finding this plaque at that moment was a nice bit of serendipity. I hadn't even finished reading the synopsis of Hugh's life before I decided he was as much of a literary fairy-godfather as I was ever likely to need, at least for that summer.

I went back there that night with my friend Jacob, who did a bit of research on Hugh's life and wrote a piece about him for the 2001 Disorientation Guide. Among the things Jacob uncovered were the reasons Hugh gave for leaving the town in favor of the wilderness:

"I wanted to be alone; I wanted to become a seer so I buried myself here in the woods. Some day the vision will come."

Aside from the account Jacob compiled and the plaque itself, I hadn't found out much about Hugh until I read this wondeful historical essay about him and a couple of other Lawrence eccentrics. If you have any interest in Hugh's life, or just want to hear an interesting story, I recommend it.

Also, Jacob recently pointed me to www.kansasmemory.org, the digital repository launched this month by the Kansas State Historical Society which has 3 photos of Hugh that neither of us had seen before. Also featured on the new site is a picture of something that, while admirable, is probably neither safe nor convenient to anyone involved.


Thanks to Jacob for his research, and a big Happy Birthday to Hugh. 181 years young.

Crazy Carny-age on the OK Highway

Due to the ease with which one can comment on a blog or e-mail the author, this site does not generate a large amount of snail mail. Once in a while, though, we will receive handwritten letters, usually written by war veterans or elderly women in the community. One particular letter that I received last week made me reconsider the kind of content that I make available on this site. If I may, I'd like to share this quick excerpt:

"Why must you always dwell on the positive?" the letter read. "Every week I check this site only to be inundated with light-hearted stories about some great new band or artsy digital photographs taken by some supposably hip twenty something. Why not tell both sides of the story for a change? I want a dash of disaster and disappointment to go along with all the happy stuff. This is America, in case you've forgotten."

This woman's words cut me to the quick. Have I consciouly been trying to shield my audience from the darker aspects of life by creating a blog where no pain or sorrow exist?

I've learned in my many years of blogging to shrug off criticism, but perhaps she had a point. I decided to adhere to the ancient blogging adage and give the people what they want.

I didn't find it hard to come up with a few unpleasant topics to write about, but I also didn't want to regale readers with all the standard blogospheric laments ("moving sucks," "quitting smoking is hard," "i haven't had my coffee this morning," "my first-born child was born with bat wings", et cetera). I needed something else. Something exciting. Something exclusive.

To get the story I was looking for I had to tap my brother, crack reporter/photographer Deez Wetzel. In the spring of 2006, while driving back from an all-night recording session at Bell Labs in Norman, Oklahoma, Young Deezy and his bandmates came across a roadside scene they would not soon forget.

In just 30 seconds and a few quick snaps of the shutter, David captured the surreal images and haunting impressions you will read below. Lucubrations.net would like to thank Young Deez for sharing this troubling experience, told in his own words.


April 24, 2006: While driving home on I-35 just south of Guthrie, OK, traffic slowed to a crawl. In the distance emergency lights flashed and a fire reaching great heights was plainly visible. What exactly was burning was not clear. As emergency vehicles sped past us on the shoulder, we waited for nearly an hour in standstill traffic watching white smoke billow on the horizon. When we finally started moving, we edged forward past the accident and realized that this was no ordinary car fire.


The Hampton umbrella ride appeared to be OK.


More confusion ahead.


The first visible casualty: an orange monkey. We were told that CPR failed, and that he had flown 400 feet to his final resting place.


More animals laying dead or motionless. Among them, an extremely rare rainbow monkey and several of his friends. It was becoming obvious that this must have been some sort of caravaning circus/carnival. What else could explain the three-legged man on the right? We were still clueless about what might have caused the fire, but decided not to rule out cigarettes.


Smiling dragons, obviously grateful that they weren't riding in back of the yellow truck.


You've heard of the ship of state. Well, this is the semi. These colors may not run, but they do char worse than a burnt bratwurst. At this point, we realized that this was no accident. It could only be international terrorism, striking a devastating blow in the heartland by laying waste to an innocent carnie convoy. As the true embodiment of American freedom at its most free, carnies are the ultimate enemy of terrorists.


These giant green suspiciously unharmed aliens are definitely suspect. Perhaps they are -- or are harboring -- terrorists. Best to arrest them all and ask questions later.

Even well over a year after the incident took place, DWetz still recalls the incident with a shudder.

"After waiting for so long in traffic, drifting in and out of sleep, the whole experience took on mythic proportions for us," Wetzel said. "I'm not gonna say Oliver Stone type proportions, but it was pretty strange to imagine how not only the leading truck but several other following vehicles got so messed up. I only wish I would've had more time to photographically assess the damage."

Even stranger to Deez was the complete absence of the catastrophe from local news reports. He scoured local papers and Web sites for days afterwards but found no mention of what he'd seen.

On one hand, I can understand why the media would choose not to cover such a story. A highway littered with crashed semis, dead rainbow monkeys and terrorist-smuggling aliens is pretty heavy shit. On the other hand, the urgency with which police ushered by passing cars suggests that perhaps the story was intentionally suppressed. No one can say for certain, at least not without assuming a certain amount of risk.

There may indeed be stories out there too macabre for the mainstream media and too sensitive for Uncle Sam, but rest assured that you will still find these stories at www.lucubrations.net, your chief source for doom and gloom in the AMerican Midwest.

Two Can Win

Tonight is a big night for The Fairer Sex. After months of recording and mixing at both Sweat Lodge and Black Lodge studios, the Lawrence group will be playing a CD release show at the Eighth Street Taproom. Their new album, "Two Can Win," is out now on the Ionik Recordings Label and features some great tunes, mostly written by frontman Zack Hart, and a few written by brother Deez. You can hear a couple FS tracks on the Ionik Records Web site and a couple more at lawrence.com. I'd also like to take the liberty of leaking my personal favorite track by Zack, "Tattoo." If you listen closely to the last 30 seconds or so, you can hear Andrew Connor make an appearance on guitar and me strum a bit of background banjo.

My other songwriting sibling, Laura Wetzel, is doing well with her debut album, which is available on iTunes. If you'd like to get some great songs and help pay for a kid's college in the process, check it out. To hear a few tunes and read a bit more about her album, you can read this from a few weeks ago.

My other new favorite songwriter is Suzannah Johannes, who debuted by winning last year's KJHK-sponsored Farmer's Ball. One night last month I was driving up to Lawrence to see her show, and as usual I was listening to a compilation of various garage and folk recordings from the sixties. I started to feel a bit guilty that so much of what I listen to is from decades past, and that I haven't been able to get as excited about the music that's going on around me.

Suzannah's show -- an opening slot for Holly Golightly at the Jackpot Saloon -- made me forget that concern completely. She started out playing a few solo songs and was eventually joined by Ghosty's David and Josh on keyboards and drums. The crowd was almost as shy as she was at first, but as the set went on she seemed to gain confidence. I was deeply impressed by her songs, and I think everyone around me was, too. You can hear a few of them here, and more excitingly, you can see her play in Lawrence this Friday, also at the Taproom.

On a completely different note, I'd like to offer a sneak preview of the chaos and cacophony that the Galesburg, Illinois art/noise duo ReeYees plans to bring to the Midwest. They don't have any proper recordings at the moment (thanks to some equipment-plundering hobo who broke into their house) but a few tracks and one short video offer flashes of what could very well turn out to be the most enjoyably obnoxious and delightfully dissonant duo outside of Fort Thunder (RIP). Here's the video, but I warn you -- and I mean it -- this is not for sensitive eardrums.

Birdos last call


This next video I'd like to link to could not be more different than the last. It features the brilliant and refined Elliot P. playing a Bach prelude on classical guitar. I think it was recorded at his senior recital at KU, but it also might be footage from last year's Bacharusa. Either way, it's great and he's got a few enchanting electric tunes you can listen to here.

Bach: Cello Suite No 3 Prelude


Thanks for tuning in, and more from me at the end of the week.

(Almost) Famous

Thanks to Tim Engle, whose KC Star write-up brought these lucubrations into the local limelight. If you didn't see the piece, you can probably still do so here.

I was greeted with a number of kind phone calls and messages from friends, but I have to admit I was disappointed that there wasn't a better turn-out at the airport when my flight arrived from Seattle. I had expected to be hoisted up on the shoulders of the masses and carried all the way to economy parking, but the only people I saw when I came out of the gate were a pair of shady limo drivers and a security guard. Oh well.

There were a few humorous circumstances surrounding the article, however. For one, the headline beneath the story on me was titled, "Older people on Facebook are creepy." My brother actually handed the paper to me folded so that it looked like the headline was meant to accompany the photo of me grinning non-threateningly. I would normally laugh this off as coincidence, except that I just joined Facebook last week, and even my younger sisters have told me they're not sure they'll accept me as a friend. How do you like that. My own flesh and blood.

The cover of the FYI section on Saturday also featured a nice story about Miles Bonny, an old friend of mine from KU and my favorite local DJ and music producer. If you didn't see the article on Miles, than try out these lines from his wikipedia entry instead:

...(Miles) co-founded Hip Hop group SoundsGood in 2000 with Kansas City based rapper Joe Good. In the early years of SoundsGood the group was well known in the "house party" scene, where they were known to "kill it", "throw down" and "lace crowds off."

Speaking of lace, it also appears the name "Renaissance Man" might have some unfortunate staying power. One friend chided me about this, saying "no wonder you wanted to go to the Renaissance Fest, Renaissance Man." The name does suit me in one respect, though. I have been drinking a lot of the "Renaissance Blend" tea purchased at Tea Drops in West Port. It's fantastic. Really, you should try it.

Reading the story, I had to wonder what someone who didn't know me might think, and ask myself if that guy in the story was really me. I like to think that I've got greater social concern and spiritual depth than finding good tamales and writing Japanese-inspired poems about jelly beans, but I also can't deny that these are matters of some importance to me. It just so happens that these petty but impassioned laments fit rather conveniently into the blogging format.
Eventually I'll pack it in, get a proper Web site portfolio and divert my energies entirely to to other efforts, but for now it looks as if there is still some fun to be had with this site. I owe that to you guys, especially the folks who chimed in with some Wakarusa Festival alternatives last week. Those were great.

The photo, by the way, is plucked from Jenn's new Seattle set. I'll follow up later this week with some impressions of the Emerald City. Also look for upcoming posts about topics such as The Fairer Sex, The Kansas Hermit, witches, missile silos and 36 weeks in Hamburg. And maybe I'll go ahead and post a list of favorite tamale locations since I kind of dodged that question in the Star.

God bless, my itsy-bitsy but appreciated readership.

Seattle Bound

In a few short hours I'll be on a plane to Seattle, where I plan to indulge in a seafood and Starbucks binge atop the Space Needle. At least unless our hosts Big Baby T (who took this picture) and Andy (who is in this picture) come up with something more interesting and/or underground to check out. I'm excited.

I'll be back to posting next week, but feel free to look through the abundance of archived material. I also added a link to a dozen great comics on the sidebar (in the "Funny Pages" section), so check those out if you like.

Thanks for stopping by.

?-ARUSA

Cold weather is on its way, and that psychedelicious summer blowout, Wakarusa Festival (Four-days of music and camping with 70+ bands on multiple stages at Clinton Lake in Lawrence, Kansas) seems farther away than ever.

The streams of hippies, jam-banders and ravers that filter through Lawrence each summer (and litter downtown streets for weeks afterwards) are no doubt at a loss for what to do with themselves during these cold, dark days. For those who can not afford the fare to Ibiza, Goa or Essaouira, I've been working on imagining alternative affairs to fill in the time/void between Wakarusa Festivals. The only catch is, they all have to more or less rhyme with Wakarusa.

I had a lot of fun with this, but I'm only including my favorite 15 for now. A special reader-generated list will be posted here next month, so your own ideas for Wakarusalternatives are welcome. In the spirit of festivals, the more the merrier.

Here's a look at my current favorite like-named alternatives to Wakarusa Fest:

Tacorusa
A giant taco-feed, open to people of all ages, creeds and cultures

Guacarusa
Originally a part of Tacorusa, Guacarusa was able to become its own event thanks to generous funding from La Raza

Spockarusa
A bunch of people dressed like Spock and/or naturally resembling Leonard "Party Long and Prosper" Nimoy

Glockarusa
The most dangerous of all 'rusas

Jockarusa
An attempt by the KU Athletic Department to draw attention to sports instead of hippie culture, promoted with the slogan, "Don't get high, get in shape!"

Iraqarusa
A portable version of Wakarusa Fest, taking place at various military bases throughout the occupied regions. Like the real thing, only thousands of miles away and without all the long hair and frivolity

Polackarusa
A celebration of Polish culture designed to combat negative stereotypes brought about by decades of Polack jokes. Features traditional folk music, dances and a Kielbasa cookoff.

Wild Bill Hickockarusa
A celebration of the fastest draw in the Wild West, perhaps taking place in one of those all-but-abandoned cavalry outposts between Topeka and Kanorado

Cockblockarusa
A sorority party in which nerds arrive first and flirt with surprising success, only to be interrupted and outmaneuvered at the last moment by more socially adept jock-types

Tony La Russa
A marathon screening of all the World Series the famed MLB manager has been a part of

Hemlockarusa
A celebration of the life of Socrates, with a reading of his works followed by a ritualistic (mock) suicide

Chicken Pockarusa
An assembly of blemished primary-schoolers

Talkarusa
A festival dedicated to putting aside the time to talk out your differences. A big letdown for men whose girlfriends mislead them into thinking they'll be attending the more-popular "Tacorusa"

Liplockarusa
A giant kiss-off

Crockarusa
A swap-meet dedicated exclusively to crock pots

Now it's your turn. Good luck!

Days of the Dead in KCK

If you're looking for great tacos and building murals, look no further than Kansas Avenue in KCK. But beware of trash-eating ghost riders.

More photos by Jenn here.

Midweek Links

When I edited the satire page of the University Daily Kansan, there was one kid who would make a "Hall and Oates" reference in every story he turned in, either incorporating them in the events of the story, or just quoting some lyrics. I never quite understood his obsession, but after attending a party last weekend where "30 Minute Recess" played a stirring rendition of "She's Gone," I started to get it. I got an even deeper glimpse into the synth-pop enigma of Hall and Oates after watching their video for the 1976 hit. It's a true classic.

Here's some more stuff to check out, if you want:

Umpty-Ump Trillionth Blog Joins Blogosphere!

A great cartoon by Richard Thompson

Lawrence is Burning!

An imaginative, part-fictional/part-historical look at the different aspects and scenarios at the burning of Lawrence at the hands of Quantrill's raiders. Featured in Zoetrope magazine and written by Andrew Malan Milward, though it's apparently written from the perspective of a girl.

Carlos Shreds!

The worst Santana performance of all time (though in all fairness to Carlos, this is a parody)

Call the Fashion Police!

In local news, police released a description yesterday of the man who robbed a check-cashing business in Shawnee earlier this week:

He is described as a dark-skinned man in his early 30s, 5 feet 11 inches with a medium build and black hair. He also had a front tooth framed in gold with a big “C” in the middle and carried a small gold-colored handgun with the words “make my day” inscribed on the handle. He wore black sports pants with a purple stripe and a blue plaid winter jacket.

New Radiohead Album Out Today!

Though I kind of prefer this solo track from Thom Yorke called "Harrowdown Hill" (slightly) remixed by Berlin musical artist/producer Ellen Allien

Something Actually Worth Reading:

On a more sincere, moving and literary note, I highly recommend reading Orhan Pamuk's Nobel lecture, entitled "My Father's Suitcase." Pamuk won the prize for literature last year and has a new book of essays out now called "Other Colors."

More from me soon.

Poems from Outer Space

Some people say I've taken the whole haiku thing too far. Others say I haven't taken it far enough. I've decided to err on the side of adventure and take the haiku writing all the way to outer space.

The choice to write in haiku is one of practicality as much as aesthetics. As lovely as it would be to present the planets in sestina, sonnet or villanelle form, haikus are much easier to radio in using lucubrations.net's sophisticated network of interplanetary baby monitors. With an ode, you risk losing a verse without knowing the difference, but the short, consistent syllable count of a haiku increases the chance of successful broadcast.

The poem cycle begins and ends on a terrestrial level, moving on to explore each planet and encounter other celestial activity along the way. Collectively, I like to call these poems "the solar system."

The astronomical art above was skillfully rendered and graciously shared by Mr. Dave Coates.

I hope you enjoy.

HAIKU SOLAR SYSTEM

the moon is rising
I am climbing up a hill
who will get their first?

planetarium
amid star clusters and moons
nine planets appear

Mercury I've heard
conspiracies to melt you
into tooth fillings

fireballs will fall
on the roof of our skylab
head to the spacement

morning and evening
star seductress Venus is
lust of the planets

dark side of the moon
Astronauts who go AWOL
like to gather here

Earth try as I might
I can't manage to escape
your troubled surface

satellite shot down
by Orion the Hunter
with his mighty bow

Red planet promise
Mars Rover Mars Rover I'm
flying right over

in space debris I
find the perfect metaphor
for my mental state

eye of Jupiter
unblinking and shot through with
thunder and lightning

Ganymede the Moon
kidnapped by the Planet King
to be cupbearer

Saturn's rings spin on
in solar Saturnalia
dance of 60 moons

if you get this far
life in outer space is a
Gas Giant party

Uranus you is
the punchline of schoolyard jokes
about anuses

far-reaching orbits
when will I see you again?
moons ask each other

Neptune is a sea
where Neptunians sing tunes
cool blue and distant

dwarf planets hitchhike
a ride on Haley's comet
past the asteroids

Pluto you are still
a part of the family
for kids in Kansas

drink a glass of stars
swallow a constellation
hiccup a pulsar

sun is coming up
I am on the path back home
pass it on the way

Snapshots

I usually post songs or links to music on Thursdays, but I've been doing that a lot lately so I thought I'd get back to the old-fashioned staples of pictures and writing.

The above photo was taken at the great Halloween party of 2003, back when I lived above Massachussetts Street. There was live jazz and an art station where people could draw pictures and hang them up, but probably the most entertaining moment of the night was when Sam W (he no longer lives in this country, so I'm not worried about embarrassing him) staggered toward the back patio and vomited off the two-story drop-off while wearing a family member's wedding dress.

As for the guy in the photo, I have no idea who he is. He just showed up, drank about seven beers in 15 minutes and then left without so much as a hiccup, not to mention a hello.

This photo was taken by Natalie after the Kaw Valley Kickball Championships. After the championship teams cleared the field, a handful of us took advantage of the bright lights to get in a quick pickup game. This photo was taken at the most dramatic moment of that decidedly not-pretty contest, right when Jacob tried to throw me out as I leaped toward home. I reunited safely with my shadow at home plate, but unfortunately my opponent and long-time friend Mr. Baum slipped and bit the dust. Hard. The X of the fence partially obscures the point of action, as if to shield the viewer from the impact of the fall, but I still think the moment is captured nicely.

This photo was taken yesterday at Antioch Park. I hadn't been back there since I was a little kid, so it was strange and refreshing to revisit. Unlike so many landmarks in this city that have decayed, been replaced or are now unrecognizably renovated, Antioch Park (67th and Antioch) is in great shape. There was a brass band playing "When The Saints Go Marching In" at the picnic shelter near Dodge Town (a mini-sized city/playground). And the stepping stones to the middle of the lake -- my all-time favorite part of the park -- are still intact.

This shot was taken early last month on the curb opposite Burrito King in Lawrence. When I arrived on the scene at about 2:30 a.m., Ben and Scott were locked in a decisive wrestling match, with nearly a dozen spectators gathered on Nicole's front lawn to watch. The battle went back and forth without a clear victor, though I think the whole thing would have made a great jeans advertisement. After Scott was through, Ben invited passers-by to wrestle by saying, "If you're not gay, then prove it by wrestling me." No one else took him up on it.

Finally, I will sneak in something music-related after all by presenting this photo of renowned "stick wizard" Josh Adams. Most of you in the area have probably had the chance to hear Josh play with one group or another, but if you haven't I strongly suggest doing so sometime in your life. Josh is playing tonight (and every Thursday night this month) with Snuff Jazz at the Taproom, and he'll be playing with Ghosty tomorrow at the Jackpot Saloon as they open for the Klaxons. Like the previous two photos, this photo was taken by Jenn.

More from me soon.

You know it's October because...

...The fountains run red-orange with the pulp of blood oranges

In case you haven't been to the Country Club Plaza in the last several days, this is what has become of the once-beautiful fountain in Mill Creek Park. When I called city officials, they insisted the water was dyed orange in tribute to this weekend's Nextel Cup at the Kansas Speedway, but the occultists I consulted say otherwise:

Says me: "It looks like a scene frozen from the Trojan War, with the horses leaping out of giant pools of blood."

Says Cristina: "It looks like the horse tried to break out of hell and got turned into stone from trying."

Says Burton: "It looks like Tang."

Whatever the case, the Plaza area fountain is certainly not the only part of Kansas city awash in phantasmagoric properties. While driving through the West Bottoms last weekend, I found much to fear in our god-fearing cowtown.

...The West Bottoms have come to life

It was a dark and stormy night. Brian and I drove downtown with the aim of getting pizza, but were denied at every turn. Grinder's was busy being City Market Jr. and was off limits. Another nearby pizza place was already closed. Faced with a shortage of eateries and a bunch of streets closed to construction, I proposed a back-up plan.

"We can always take the 12th street bridge into the west bottoms and try and find this hot-dog vendor near the Edge of Hell," I told Brian. Neither of us had any particular appetite for the Price Chopper brats and potato chips served by the sausage schlepper in question, but the idea of visiting a hot-dog vendor at the Edge of Hell sounded too romantic to refuse.

The Edge of Hell, by the way, is one of Kansas City's oldest haunted houses -- seasonal theme park/buildings that open up to give visitors a chilling (and expensive) trip into netherworldly madness.

Unfortunately, we couldn't find the guy's stand. We drove around in circles for a while, crossing railroad tracks and passing flocks of haunted-house goers, the screams and sound effects from the five-story slides following us as we drove through the bottoms. Probably it was too early in the season for the vendor to be out, especially with the rainy weather that night.

If you've ever been to the West Bottoms on such a night, you can attest that it's a spooky experience, regardless of whether you pay 20 bucks to visit one of the haunted houses. As far as I'm concerned, the real haunted houses are the buildings that have stood unused for decades, imposing red brick structures that housed various businesses decades ago and have since fallen into ominous disrepair.

Still, one of the most chilling images of the evening was driving on the bridge overlooking the the Edge of Hell entrance. The name of the building is printed in white on the red awning, and with a night watchman supervising a small crowd, it looked very much like a seedy hotel in the East Village, or a halfway point between eternal damnation and Kansas City, Kansas.

We drove back out of the area and then decided to go down Cliff Drive, a narrow street that trailed into darkness. It looked as though the street might be blocked off, but we were able to turn right and drive under the bridge between downtown and the West Bottoms. After crossing a pond-sized puddle, we found ourselves back amid the brick buildings and shadows of the Bottoms.

At that point, I looked up, and what I saw nearly took my breath away. I grabbed Brian's shoulder and pointed up to the right.
It was a gargoyle, completely by itself, the largest I'd ever seen. Not some pansy Parisian decoration, either, but a truly hideous, three-stories-tall monstrosity. We stopped the car to stare at and laugh about our discovery. I may complain about Kansas City being unexciting at times, but in this case I had to hand it to the urban planners responsible for this terrifying work of art.

This picture was taken by Steven Bower with 120 slide film and cross processed (mixed with improper chemicals) with C-41 development to give it the crazy red look. You can see more of his photos here.

...Dinosaurs devour senior citizens just East of Lee's Summit

Fortunately, the West Bottoms are not the only place in the metro area where you can come face to face with giant monsters.

For one more week and one more week only, Powell Gardens is hosting Jurassic Gardens, an exhibit of life-size dinosaur sculpture set amid its vast and scenic arboretum.

Jenn and I drove out there instead of going to the Plaza Art Fair. With all due respect to watercolorists, candlemakers and sculptors of fine glassware, the possibility of seeing dinos greatly outshined the Plaza's biggest fall event.

Powell Gardens caters mostly to elderly folks, and as we drove through the parking lot, we wondered if any of them were being brought there by conniving family members to be fed to the dinosaurs.

But of course no such things were taking place. Unlike the animatronix "Dinosaurs Alive!" exhibits I saw as a kid, the residents of Jurassic Gardens were totally inanimate. And though I found little to fear from these particular tyrant lizards, the sculptures did attain a certain grace in their carefully landscaped setting.

We visited the chapel just before a wedding party arrived -- unfortunately not on the backs of dinosaurs, as we had hoped.

And we learned a few things. For example, that Missouri has its own dinosaur, the Hypsibema missouriense, also called a Hadrosaur. This herbivore had jaws that contained over 1,000 teeth, and it lived in Missouri during the Late Cretaceous Period, which I think was shortly before I moved back to town.

Overall, I have to say that the gardens did have a transformative power.I turned into a brachiosaurus.
And Jenn turned into a butterfly.

Look for more examples of the supernatural, monstrous and mysterious all month as this site celebrates the Halloween season.