Tag Archives: YouTube

A Demon’s Diary

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Photo by M.O. Stevens

In the course of doing research for my supernatural YA novel, I recently attended an estate sale for the late, obscure occultist Jarvin Vucklebog. Vucklebog, a contemporary of Anton LaVey impersonators, was the rare purveyor of black magic who shunned the spotlight, so good luck finding anything written about him.

Anyway, I’d only planned on browsing that day; I wasn’t in the market for foam pentagram hats, or Ouija board TV trays, or Jack Parsons’ mustache.

But there was a recent Vucklebog acquisition that did interest me, and the price, surprisingly, was just right. For $20, I picked up a black iron obelisk, about three feet tall, engraved from base to tapered peak on its four sides with several rows of mystic symbols, signs and ciphers. According to the sale guide, the obelisk was the diary of the demon-being commonly known as Xyzeethulu, no relation to Quezeethulu, though both entities frequented the Plegorthian sector of the Fourth Crusted Layer of sub-Hades.

I was at a loss to translate it, of course, but opportunity soon arrived when it was announced that everyone who had purchased an item from the sale was invited to a group seance to communicate with Vucklebog’s spirit. After an eternity of table-rapping and bad lemonade, Vucklebog finally announced himself through his beloved lhasa apso Buckles, and I was able to make my question heard over the clamor that ensued. There seemed to be no response when suddenly I was overtaken by a spastic fit of automatic writing and produced a translation key.

As I convalesced in our local asylum, I began the task of deciphering the diary. It’s been slow going, but what I’ve discovered so far offers chilling insight into the demon mind…

DIARY OF XYZEETHULU – January 23, 2012

“I’m so mad at Devon right now I could just spit the River Styx. He knows me (or I thought he did), knows what’s in my wheelhouse. On video I’m going to do one of two things, eat babies as a ritual sacrifice or push the souls of pre-adolescent girls a smidge darker than they already are. Any other YouTube channel, I’m a freaking star, but Devon’s? He won’t even let me audition unless I agree to eat 666 steak burritos on camera, because hi-ho isn’t it funny that when I pass gas hell-fire shoots out of my butt and my eyes. Stupid genetics. Thanks dads. I know I promised Dr. Baralyxneluthu-Legion Class IV no more poltergeists, but Devon is really  pushing my Hot Buttons of Legorah Dominion, burned into my flesh on my 16th Searing.”

To say this has been a real boon for my novel, is an understatement. Stay tuned for more installments of…A Demon’s Diary.

Distractions

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Illustration by El Gordo

If you’re like me and write from home, you know there’s no shortage of enticing distractions that desire to consume your attention and pull you off course. You’ve got your Internet and its evil henchmen Facebook, Twitter,  and YouTube. You’ve got your emails, your texting, your IM’ing. If you’re old school you’ve got your TV, your radio, or a phone that actually rings that you actually answer and use to talk to people. And of course there’s always a shelf that needs dusting, a rug that needs beating, and a very persuasive bottle of glue that needs sniffing.

Despite these challenges, I’m proud to say I’ve done a good job over the years of maintaining focus while in the act of writing, of steeling myself against any unnecessary divertissements. And yet the universe continues to test me–taunt me is more like it– with no end of new diversions.

Lately it’s the talking birds.

You know what I’m saying, writers, you’ve heard them too. So many opinions about everything, right? From how to turn the economy around (giant bird feeders on every street corner would require a huge workforce to pull off) to saving the US Postal Service (carrier-pigeons work for worms, unemployed postal carriers can build the giant bird feeders), to reversing climate change (allow more nests to be built in more smokestacks).

Sure the world can always use more problem solvers, but their timing is awful. It never fails. There I am tapping away on my computer having locked in on a steady rhythm, and there they are tapping their beaks against the window near my writing desk. I don’t want to acknowledge them but they won’t stop tapping until I do, and oh look, it’s Mr. and Mrs. Crow all fluffing-feather-excited about something. “Hey Bry, you busy? Wanna hear about our brilliant new low-cal regurgitation diet?  That’s okay, you go ahead and bang your head against the desk and we’ll just tell you anyway.”

I remember the bumper stickers that said KILL YOUR TELEVISION, and as stated above TV is most definitely a distraction. Using this logic I guess I should shoot all the talking birds; however, a very similar strategy didn’t make me many friends in the neighborhood back when talking squirrels weren’t extinct.

What’s the solution here? I need help. How do you deal with your talking birds?