The Day I Slaughtered a Pumpkin

 A gardening friend gave me a pumpkin. 

What the hell am I supposed to do with a pumpkin? 

She suggested making a pie.  

I said I could try, but I had my doubts I would. 

Yet, I did.

Two, actually. 

I found a recipe on the Food Network website… 

(Click here for the details) 

…and then grabbed a big knife! 🔪 

First, I decapitated the stem, like I was about to carve a jack o’lantern.  Then I cut the pumpkin’s body in half and disemboweled it.  As if saving a souvenir from my kill, I placed the gooey, seedy guts safely aside.

Someone is ignoring the “No Smoking” sign

Throwing the two oiled-up halves in the oven for a half hour or so made it easier to slice the pumpkin meat from its skin.  Then I pounded the meat hard until it became a smooth, creamy substance.  Adding molasses, cinnamon, ginger and other stuff, I stirred until it was time to fill the store bought pie crusts.  (My deepest apologies to Ms. Floridia Minch) 

My pies use protection

Around an hour later, I had two (mostly) made from scratch pies.  Surprisingly, unlike the chocolate salt lick pie I made in home-ec class, my pumpkin pies were quite tasty.  I even shared one pie with my gardening friend, our mutual friend and a few librarians.  The best part about that was nobody but the pumpkin died from my baking experiment.

This is the day when 1 becomes 2

As for my souvenir, I washed the guts off the pumpkin seeds and let them dry.  Then I pored a little canola oil in a bowl, added a pinch of salt and mixed in the seeds.  After draining the excess oil, I baked them on a cookie sheet for 20 minutes at 350° F, turning the seeds every 5 minutes.  What I learned from this is that unborn pumpkins taste a lot like big sunflower seeds. 

Seeds of Sin?

I also learned that my grandma must have really, really loved us for some reason.  Why else would she have cooked multiple pies and dinners a year over many years?  I mean, I was wiped out just from making the two pies this one time.  

In other words, while I’m glad I made the pies, I don’t love anyone enough to make a habit out of slaughtering pumpkins. 😏

2021 - 2021 🪦 

Happy Thanksgiving or whatever.

Freak Out, 

JLH 

P.S.  click the pic ⤵️ to get hardcore thankful…

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In case you need to escape a family gathering… 

freakboy on film: THE GHASTLY ONES / SEEDS OF SIN (an Andy Milligan double feature)

In the last few months of 2020, I was introduced to writer/director Andy Milligan by way of FLESHPOT ON 42ND STREET.  I enjoyed this early 1970's look at New York City hustlers so much that I purchased a DVD from Greece via eBay.  My 2021 was rang in with popcorn, chocolate, a sleeping cat on my lap and the X-rated cut of FLESHPOT glowing from the TV.  It was the most bizarre and fascinating New Year's Eve I've ever experienced.

In March, TCM UNDERGROUND aired the R-rated cut of FLESHPOT again, along with another Andy Milligan film called GURU THE MAD MONK.  It's a crazy film about a demented monk, a hunchback and a vampire living together in a monastery.  Think THREE'S COMPANY with a  body count, well...sort of.  GURU compelled me to look up other Andy Milligan classics on IMDb and SEEDS OF SIN caught my eye.  Unfortunately, this particular film wasn't streaming anywhere and I could only find a clip on You Tube.  The one clip convinced me to order a double feature DVD.  

Let's start with...

THE GHASTLY ONES (1968) 

screenplay by Hal Sherwood & Andy Milligan / directed by Andy Milligan 

Three sisters, and their respective husbands, are called to their ancestral home for the reading of their father's will.  Once there, the drinks start flowing and the bodies begin piling up.  Is the killer one of the sisters, one of the husbands or one of the three unsettling servants?  I thought I had it figured out, but I was wrong.

Overall, I was entertained by THE GHASTLY ONES, except for gruesome scenes involving a real rabbit.  My only other complaint is I wish the plot would have focused a bit more on the characters.  Certain emotional elements with the sisters and the husbands are introduced, but not fully explored.  Still, if you are in the mood for low-budget crazy horror, you could do worse than THE GHASTLY ONES! 

Now to the reason we are here...

SEEDS OF SIN (1968) 

screenplay by John Borske & Andy Milligan / directed by Andy Milligan 

"Well, you've ruined my life and now I've just ruined your dinner!" - the mother to her children 

Welcome to a house of family dysfunction, secrets and sin!  A sickly, cantankerous matriarch lives with her one-eyed male caretaker, daughter Carol and two conniving servants.  The matriarch has other grown children but wants nothing to do with them.  Carol, going against her mother's wishes, invites the estranged family home for Christmas.  Well, holiday cheer quickly turns to murderous fear as family members get bumped off one by one by someone in the house.  Now do you understand why this one caught my eye? 

What the hell did I just watch? was what I thought at the end of the film.  Don't get me wrong, I loved the crazy dialogue and shocking character revelations, but the film was edited in a seriously confusing way.  Some of the other grown children are not really properly introduced, so good luck keeping track of who is who.  I even thought one character was killed and came back to life, but I had misidentified two similar looking characters.  To top off the confusion, the deleted scenes in the DVD bonus features shows us the death of a character who is barely in the actual film.  Sadly, there is a reason for the horrible editing.

According to the back of the DVD box, producers and distributers wanted more sex in the film.  How much more?  Well, SEEDS OF SIN begins with an orgy that does NOT appear to involve any character from the film.  Same goes for some of the other endless sex scenes scattered throughout. (Who the hell is getting it on now?).  However, there are a few actual plot-related sex scenes, but even they go on far too long.  The only interesting thing in these soft-core moments is the harsh lighting often gives the men a ghostly glow, especially their posteriors.  (Damn, that's a seriously white ass!) 

 

Overall, I really enjoyed this film, I think.  SEEDS OF SIN was everything I expected in the family dysfunction angle, but nothing like I expected in just about every other angle.  So, if you are in the mood for a choppy, disturbing, occasionally hard to follow nudie-horror film, SEEDS OF SIN might float your filmic boat!  Oh, when I watch it again, and I will, there will be a lot of fast-forwarding during the sex scenes, which should up the entertainment factor. 

In conclusion, I am beginning to think FLESHPOT ON 42ND STREET is Andy Milligan's masterpiece, though SEEDS OF SIN could've came close if important scenes had not been replaced by extra sex.  However, I've barely scratched the surface.  Thanks to an extremely intriguing trailer in the DVD bonus features, the late Andy Milligan isn't done with me yet. 

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words.

Freak Out, 

JLH 

P.S.  A recently reviewed film I stumbled upon while searching for Andy Milligan films...

http://freakboyzone.blogspot.com/2021/03/freakboy-on-film-shriek-of-mutilated.html 

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New Month!

New Eye!

New Interview! 

https://thejlhcollective.blogspot.com/2021/04/the-collective-eye-april-2021.html 

freakboy on film: PARENTS (The Home Sweet Home Blogathon Edition)

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A big thanks to Gil of Realweegiemidget Reviews and Rebecca of Taking Up Room for the opportunity to participate in The Home Sweet Home Blogathon! 

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                                             1989

written by Christopher Hawthorne / directed by Bob Balaban 

 Home can mean shelter.

Home can mean comfort.

Home can mean family.

It was a family duo affair when I first experienced one of the darkest of dark comedies. 

I was 16 and staying overnight at Sister 3 of 3's economy-sized apartment in Kearney, Nebraska.  We rented a couple of movies and only managed to stay up long enough to watch one.  The next morning, my sister and I sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast and the second movie.  While the videotape was slid into the VCR, scrambled eggs, hashbrowns and sausage patties were dished up.  "Play" was pushed on the remote and we began eating as PARENTS unfolded before our eyes. 

Michael is afraid.  What could a young boy be afraid of in 1950's suburbia?  He is living in a new town and in a nice, new home.  He is attending a new school filled with new faces.  Perhaps all the newness has enhanced Michael's fear of the one constant in his life.  His parents.

Nick and Lilly Laemle appear to be the perfect 1950's couple.  They find it important for their family to fit into their new life and they seem to have succeeded.  Nick holds a respectable position at TOXICO, the local chemical plant, where he brings home the bacon.  Lily keeps their new home neat and clean, where she prepares succulent meals of leftovers.

Michael hasn't been eating very well and this concerns his parents.  What also concerns them is the interference and intrusion of outsiders upon their home sweet home.  Sheila, a troubled, imaginative young girl from school, has given Michael a voice for his fears and given him the courage to seek answers.  Millie Dew, the eccentric school therapist, is asking Michael uneasy questions about his fears and is determined to find out what is going on in the young boy's world.  

While the outsiders chip away at the false image of a  perfect home, there is a power struggle happening within.  Nick wants his son to grow up to be a man just like him and eat the same things he eats.  Lily also wants this but love for Michael causes her to hesitate here and there.  Michael doesn't want to be like or eat like his parents, especially since the leftovers may have once been people.  Who will triumph in this finger-lickin' familia face-off?  My lips are sealed.  

 

Given its premise, PARENTS should be a schlocky horror flick.  The writing and acting elevates the idea of cannibalistic parents into a moody mixture of claustrophobic suspense and uncomfortable humor.  Randy Quaid gives the best performance of his career as the intense and quietly terrifying father.  Mary Beth Hurt is brilliant as a woman torn between being a supportive wife and a loving mother.  Bryan Madorsky is haunting as the son forced to deal with unspeakable notions.  Sandy Dennis as the therapist and Juno Mills-Cockell as Sheila expertly adds to the off-kilter world of PARENTS.

After the curtain call ending credits, I told Sister 3 of 3 that I couldn't finish my sausage patty.  The disturbing looking meat being cooked on screen eventually caused me to chew and chew and chew each bite of sausage in order to avoid swallowing it.  My sister didn't seem overly phased by what we had witnessed, but would later be disturbed when we were the only ones in a theater for DR. GIGGLES. That, however, is another post for another time. 

In conclusion, if you want to have an unsettling, but entertaining time with your family, curl up on the couch with no snacks and enjoy PARENTS.  Ok, fine.  If you need food, go for crunchy bite-size snacks.  (Insert finger food joke here) 

SIDE NOTE: As of this post, PARENTS is streaming on AMAZON PRIME (US). 

Freak Out, 

JLH

P.S.  A different post about why a mother should never give her son a killer doll...

http://freakboyzone.blogspot.com/2019/10/freakboy-on-film-childs-play-2019.html 

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A rockin ' new Collective Eye interview is opening in February! 

Until then, take a peek at January's interview...

https://thejlhcollective.blogspot.com/2020/12/the-collective-eye-january-2021.html 

Front Seat Writer

 We now take you to a surprisingly good day...

My sister and I day-tripped to a nearby city to visit our oldest sister.  We had some time to kill, so we browsed around a few stores.  My sister purchased a sturdy and rather cool ice-scraper/snow brush.  I purchased a book for a friend and then became ridiculously excited by an apple-scented deodorant I've been wanting to try!  Don't even ask because I can't explain my unbridled joy over finally finding this personal hygiene product. 

While I was still floating in an apple-scented afterglow, we lunched with our oldest sister and her husband at Angus Burgers and Shakes. I told my sister she had to use the restroom before we left the restaurant because it's really cool.  Our oldest sister seemed to laugh at the idea but later agreed with me.  The sink's faucet is designed to resemble an old-time pump from a well.  The basin looks like it's lined with copper for that rustic ambiance.  I swear I need to start writing a coffee table book about cool and interesting public restrooms. 

Anyhoo, we picked up desserts and lunch for her youngest daughter and went back to our oldest sister's home.  My niece joined us at the dining room table and I asked about her online classes.  She is home from university thanks to COVID-19.  Even with this change of scene, she is studying many things, but we talked about two subjects near and dear to my freak heart...writing and filmmaking.

She told me all about a short film she wrote and directed. THE DOORWAY is about a door that randomly appears and one person is compelled to step through it.  There's humor, a sort-of love triangle and a dinosaur, so what else can you want?   I really enjoyed THE DOORWAY and there were creative elements that reminded me of me, just a little.  I will never tell my niece the latter because no 20 year-old wants to hear that from someone old.  However, she could actually be reading these words right now. 

Yes, I officially came out as a writer/blogger/indie author.  There wasn't a big , dramatic scene.  I just casually mentioned my books and this blog.  It felt right, but, of course, I downplayed my creative doings.  I didn't go to university to become a writer and I'm sure it shows. So, I have no idea what my niece will think of my work, if she explores my catalogue.  Hopefully she won't look upon my books & blogs with utter disdain.  Yet, a couple of previous posts here may be offensive/shocking and don't get me started on my books, especially DARK EXCURSIONS.

Oh well, at least my creative side isn't a dirty little secret anymore.  It feels good to free that side of myself and probably nothing will overly change because of it.  I'll continue to write and blog, always striving to capture my authentic freaky self and the rest of my family will continue to do what they do.

In conclusion, it is a remarkable sensation to discover a kindred creative spirit within my immediate family.  I believe my niece was surprised to learn that her generally quiet uncle has worlds within him.  I'm not even sure how much time passed but our conversation was more enjoyable than apple-scented deodorant.

I sincerely wish my niece success in her creative endeavors, while hopefully staying true to her voice and vision.  If you have 14 minutes to spare, please step through THE DOORWAY...

Click to enter

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words.

SIDE NOTE: I didn't write this post while riding in the front seat, but it started to take shape as my sister and I traveled home.

Freak Out,

JLH

P.S.  When I was a backseat writer....

http://freakboyzone.blogspot.com/2019/03/backseat-writer.html 

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My books & blogs...

http://thejlhcollective.blogspot.com/2018/03/the-collective.html  

Backseat Writer

We now take you to a dramatic scene that would shape a young freakboy's familial interactions for decades to come.

The location - An expansive living room of a beautiful home nestled on the outskirts of a scenic Colorado town 

NON-RELATIVE: What do you want to be when you grow up? 

YOUNG FREAKBOY (around 14 years of age): An author. 

RELATIVE (in a horrified screech): You can't do that! 

~end scene~

Also, end of this freakboy bringing up his writing or any creative project around certain family members.  Even now, years later, I just can't bring myself to broach the topic.

I was with most of my immediate family on Sunday.  It was a nice dinner and a chance to see a niece before her, her husband and their unborn son move to Florida.  I couldn't bring myself to mention my recent achievement of VISION BENT and I had the opportunity.  A different niece was talking about poetry, but I bit my tongue.  I had a chance to at least mention this blog because she talked about preferring unrealistic writing to the kind that requires research.  Still, Uncle Freakboy remained mute.  Ok then, let us never refer to myself in that way again.

Yes, I know that I shouldn't allow one moment from forever ago to haunt and control me.  Perhaps it's not strictly that one moment.  History has shown me how whatever I may accomplish will never be good enough.  Instead of being happy that I defied my perceived disability and published VISION BENT, the conversation would turn to the sordid topic of coin, effectively ruining my accomplishment.  Then, if my creative endeavor was read, the screeching would be unstoppable, at least legally.  Before you give the allegedly simple act of telling the screecher to shut-up, the screeching wouldn't really end, it would just be transferred.  My sister Margaret would then receive the screeching, as our mom once did.  Screeching by proxy.  So, it's just easier not to.  

Sure, my nieces and nephew have grown up not really knowing me.  Without my creative side, I am nothing.  An empty carton.  An erased chalkboard.  A flushed toilet.  Maybe they see me as their half-blind, loser uncle who only talks about television and films.  Even those topics are censored.  A discussion of my love of John Waters would be most unwelcome and very awkward.  I dare not mention Rosemary's Baby being my favorite film or risk receiving unsolicited religious screeching.  Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating the latter, but soul-saving  pamphlets could arrive in my mail.  At least my half-blind eyes wouldn't be able to read them.

I don't  know.  Maybe this blog, along with my books, are my safe space.  My exotic getaway from everyday life.  My real home.  Perhaps I don't want to voluntarily put out the welcome mat.  If my nieces and nephew stumble upon my online home, either by accident or some other relative mentioning it, then they are most welcome to visit my mindscape and learn all about their authentically freaky and multi-layered Uncle John. 

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words. 

Side note...I'm typing this while riding in the backseat on the way home from the aforementioned family dinner, but I will probably not post it until Monday.  I'm not sure I'll try to ride & write again.  The sensation makes me feel a bit queasy...or maybe it's just family dinners.

Freak out, 

JLH

P.S.  The first reader of the VISION BENT paperback resides in St. Ives, Cornwall, England!  Yeah, baby, I'm an internationally known indie author!  ;)

https://thejlhcollective.blogspot.com/2019/01/vision-bent-half-blind-poems.html 

Waiting for cookies...

I sit and wait.  

The sweeper sweeps up lunch debris around me.  The relative sits at a different table with cookies he purchased.  Guess he couldn't wait for the free ones he will receive when the birthday boy arrives.  He's the kind of relative who would call someone stupid for ordering cookies while waiting for free ones.  Ask me again why I avoid family gatherings.

The only reason I'm here is for the simple reason that the birthday boy is my dad.  He's taking the vision test at the Department of Motor Vehicles.  Not sure if he will pass.  Not sure if he should. Either way, he will have had over 40 more years of driving than I will experience.  (See the previous post for my last drive, which happened in December 2016 - https://freakboyzone.blogspot.com/2019/02/last-drive-half-blind-poem.html )

Earlier I ate lunch with my dad, along with 2 of 3 sisters and a couple of other relatives.  Maybe I'm weird, but I would avoid talk of the deceased on an 84 year-old's birthday.  I'm sorry that your brother died last year but could you not remind my dad of death on his birthday?  This shouldn't surprise me.  I was talking about my upcoming great niece or nephew to a relative and she had to bring up her miscarriages.  I'm sorry your babies died a couple of decades ago, but I'm trying to celebrate new life.  Thankfully, my niece lives far enough away to ever be around this relative.  I'm sure she would tell my niece all about it.  It's not like I would bring up my mom's death at a celebration of someone else's mom's birthday.  

Yeah, I will be too busy to attend the next family gathering.  I'll be washing my hair or napping or doing anything else.  Ripping out my fingernails might be less painful. 

I am still sitting and waiting.

I would be online, but the Wi-Fi is misbehaving.  Maybe that's good.  Taking a break from the virtual world.  Decompress.  Though I have my headphones on, my Mad Scientist Glasses focused and my tablet propped up to avoid interaction with physically present people.  At least I'm writing these words.  It's better than engaging in conversation with other humans.  Previous examples should illuminate my reasons.  Though perhaps I'm just anti-social.  Perhaps I'm not anti-social with people I actually want to be around.

More relatives just turned up. 

Is there something fundamentally broken in me that makes me prefer the company of online strangers over people who have known me...or think they've known me...all my life?  To be blunt, ever since my mom passed away, I've felt disconnected from a lot of her relatives.  Felt like a ghost at family functions.  I don't have anything to talk with them about.  I don't have a"real" career.  Believe me, too many moments in the past have proven that this is important to them.  I don't have kids, thank the gods!   So I can't brag endlessly about them.  Even if I did and could, I'd hear about how great their dead kids would have been or something, obviously.  

The birthday boy arrived and SHOCK OF SHOCKS!  My dad passed his test.  The DMV person even took him for a drive and he still passed!  Mind you, they put some restrictions on his license.  No driving out of town, no driving after dark, and no driving when wet.  I made up the last one. 

The cookies should arrive soon.  I suspect they will be oatmeal raisin, but if that's what dad wants, so that's what he gets.  If I have cookies on my next birthday, I'm ordering chocolate chip!

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words.

Freak Out,

JLH 

P.S. For more personal words from a half-blind freak like me...

getbook.at/VBebook