At the time of this post, I’m in the
process of gorging on horror movies. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve
watched well over one hundred flicks during this two-month stretch.
All to gather inspiration for my debut visual novel The Rave. While
writing horror is an experimental gig for an author who’s more
comfortable with urban fiction (hood books) and erotica, the genre is
something I’m intimately familiar with. I’m a red dead horror head.
In fact, a good 90 percent of the programming my wife and I watch
together falls in the horror category. Whether it’s feature-length
movies like IT or TV shows such as The Walking Dead, our ideal of
spending time together usually consists of soaking up viewing
material from this immensely popular and controversial genre.

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So why do I love horror so much? Hmmm,
it’s to hard say really. A know-it therapist type might draw on my
violent past. I have, after all, shamefully committed some atrocities
that would rattle the most hardened of spectators. Or my morbid sense
of humor. I’ve been caught laughing hysterically while watching
murder scenes, though this is mostly attributed to the cheesiness and
ridiculousness of the execution. Death is certainly no laughing matter in real life. Perhaps it’s something much simpler
and much less sinister. My pea brain is wired to get off, so to
speak on certain triggers. Action. Drama. The dire consequences of
tragedy. Even the most basic horror movies tend to deliver the
most extreme examples. Could explain why I love
wrestling and Dragon Ball as well. Who the fuck knows, really.

In any event, I love these type of
movies, and contend that a bad horror movie beats a decent B and Jenny
movie (romantic comedy) any day. Shot out to the homies B and Jenny!

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