Boredom. Really! For a while, I had come to see my “main” blog, MoltenMetalMama, as a kind of verbal test lab, where I could safely detonate wild ideas and see what fallout occurred – if any. So, over the course of its lifespan – 18 months by now – I would every so often write a short story. I did a Poe pastiche, I wrote a parody of Plato’s “Symposium”. Just because I could, just because I had these ideas I would like to explore and I didn’t want them to grow mold on my hard drive, so – why not? If people liked them, fine, and if they didn’t, I wasn’t going out of my way to hold an AK-47 to their heads and say – “read it or die”, although sometimes, that idea did have its own appeal.
The night I wrote “Midnight” happened precisely as I said. I found that image – actually, a few days beforehand, but that Sunday night, I went back to where I’d found it and looked again. It galvanized my sick, perverted imagination. That was it – all I needed. Occasionally, I’ll go back and re-read “Midnight”, to see what I’d like to change, but I can’t look at that image for too long. I get distracted!
The Devil is a special case. He was not chosen by random. Prompted by a discussion at Sex Beat Records in Copenhagen almost a year ago, where I blathered at length about this performer in spite of knowing not too much (Something I'm scary good at), I invested a fair chunk of my vacation money into a complete discography. Support your starving rock legends, or there won't be many left, not even in L.A.
I then spent the better part of six months scraping bits and pieces of my pathetic brain off my speakers. That's the good part.
The bad part is - I then had the hare-brained idea to write about it.
Few performers do creepy, spooky or even morally ambiguous "evil" quite so well. The rest were a lot of sleepless nights on YouTube and a lot of interviews dating from the mid-80's until today. And a sick imagination.
I've got a thing for the guy. I'm not the only one. So?