Welcome

     Due to the insistence of my wife and friends, this blog is now totally open and public.  I have been working on ironing out the kinks, learning more HTML and developing a flow while ensuring I have enough of a start to engage your minds.
    
     Comments to any and all posts are welcome-indeed, solicited!  As this is now public, comments will be moderated to weed out the stray internet sniper.  Please be patient if your commentaries do not post immediately and be assured they will.
    
     First time visitors may wish to start at the first post and read upward as there is a sequential order to things.  I wish you well and hope you log in and stay with me on this new journey!

The Three Lands Trilogy

     One of the more ambitious proposals I worked on with artist Jeff Austin was a project called The Three Lands Trilogy.  The overall epic concerns the co-existence of Earth, Heaven and Hell all occupying the same dimensional space with time existing as a constant on a spiritual level.
    
     The only beings who traverse the Three Lands are angels, both Heavenly and Fallen (Lucifer and his minions), the Love Wraiths (dead members of the Family Stone whose duties are to protect their portion of dimensional space and usher the dead souls into the afterlife) and the cursed (Efriem Merritt, for example).

     The trilogy has three separate storylines set in three separate time periods which collide into a grand scale conclusion.  All of the stories were written so they could be stand-alone, a series, a mini-series or packaged as the entire epic.  The entire trilogy involved quite a commitment from a publisher and an offer was made to us for a partnership contract in sharing the cost and profits.  We dissented, as we figured we may as well self-publish in that case.

     The trilogy consisted of these three storylines:

EFRIEM MERRITT

     This story was also pre-titled, "Weird South Presents."  It is the tale of a Confederate soldier killed in battle who is resurrected along with his horse (a combined amalgam of two men and several animals and insect species who also perished with the horse being the dominant form) after reclaiming his soul from a Love Wraith after a Fallen angel escapes Hell and possesses the body of the Rebel's fallen friend.

     Returning home to scorched lands and a scattered family, Efriem sets off with a ex-slave and a woman (who changes to a wolf at night-fall) in search of his fiance, Abigail, who has been taken by his comrade, now possessed by the transformed Fallen angel into a vampiric demon lord.

     The story is part Catch-22 and part morality play as Efriem finds the price for his soul is that he can never kill-even though he must slay the demon lord to regain the souls of his friends (trapped in the horse, Gabriel) and attain their rightful place in the afterlife.

     This series contains strong historical, supernatural and ethical elements that set into play a vivid background for tight character continuity and reader identification.  It is also an exploration into the experience of a changing culture and belief system and of maintaining loyalty and honor to oneself and others.

     Included in the three Weird South posts below are character profiles, plot synopsis, script pages and the first four pages of the story by artist, Jeff Austin.

THE MINISTRY OF FROST

     The second series features the main character of Paige Stone, a stripper and the last heir of her family bloodline.  Set in 1972, she discovers her family heritage-the Stone descendants (mostly male) have been the spiritually directed Trackers on Earth of Lucifer Morningstar.  Once every generation, Satan walks a predestined path across the Earth in human form, directing evil across the globe which culminates in terrible consequences.

     The Trackers hunt Lucifer in attempts to trap and kill the current manifestation of the Beast, often with tragic outcomes.  Paige learns of her destiny from her uncle, who is killed as she has her first confrontations with Lucifer.  She travels with a disillusioned priest-sorceror who is addicted to sniffing the dust of the ground bones of angels, which incites powers, visions and near possessions.

     With the state of the world crumbling, social decay and creatures of the night everywhere, Paige must fulfill her destiny and also leave the Earth an heir to ensure its future.  Included in the Ministry of Frost post below are the first two pages of artwork and a plot synopsis with characters.

ALL AROUND THE LOVE WRAITHS SING

OR, CONVERGENCE

     This story is the third in the trilogy and spins the tale of the Love Wraiths-from their origins to their counter-parts in Hell and their many forms.  The day the Love Wraiths all unite to sing in unison from their different locations and time periods will herald the end of the Three Lands and the time of Revelation or Convergence.

     Only this description and reference was included in the proposal to round out the plan for the entire trilogy.  The following posts as referred to above form the basis for the project.  Enjoy!

Weird South Part 1

EFRIEM MERRITT

Character Profiles

Plot Synopsis For Issue 1

Weird South Part 2

EFRIEM MERRITT

Script pages for the first four pages of original

artwork featured in post Part 3

Weird South Part 3

EFRIEM MERRITT

Original Artwork

Four spectacular pencils by Jeff Austin

All artwork copyright @2002 Jeff Austin

The Ministry of Frost

     This was the original proposal for the second series tied in to The Three Lands Trilogy.  We were in such a rush to complete our layouts that I did the finished art, which includes a couple of panel "homages" for backgrounds as I had no time for complete pencils (apologies to Vosburg).  Comic art takes me forever as I'm more of an illustrator with a tendency for detail.  All that stippling is hand-drawn, by the way.

THE MINISTRY OF FROST

Original Art

Representational-Not Meant For Publication

PLOT SYNOPSIS

Tribal Drums

     Experiments with drum beats led me down a percussion path in my writing.  I was searching for syllabic percussive rhythm for wordplay against differing drum sounds.  It was not as drug-induced as it seems and I produced a small body of work with differing results.

     This is one such piece based on a Native American ritualistic drum riff and chant:

A QUE OF VELDT UNDERHEAD

This languid she

approaches

     with eyes exploding emotion

          and her hips swish

               feline heat with

          her gaze signing

     my being

(tattooing

my seed).

     "To what craft

          her artful talents

               other than dress

          and eyes

     be braided?"

I want her naked.

She bares primal love

     in the wilderness

          and we become Cherokee

               trading beats

          and piercing
     our treaty.

Swain

like colored wind at night-

     I am her blanket

          and she is my ground-

               splayed within the down

          of our one

     tribal

sky.

A Graphic Novel

     Some years back, artist Jeff Austin and I were collaborating on several projects to shop around to comic publishers.  We had quite of bit of interest and had we let go of a few of them on spec they could have seen publication.  Unfortunately, I am a pay as you go kind of creator.  These hit the files as my time was stretched thin enough through my business and Jeff had numerous deadlines.

     STRINGS was a projected graphic novel or twelve issue mini-series.  It has since transformed and streamlined into a better structured work with different title and changed plot elements.  I have scanned the original proposals to show the first draft and give the reader a glimpse into the genesis of the synopsis, characters, plot, script and artwork that goes into such an endeavor. 

     It is of interest to note that we threw together this raw original proposal in 3 days due to our time constraints (and it shows).  These images run in order left to right-forgive the bit of uneven placements and sizing as I'm still getting the hang of HTML posting.  Click on the images to enlarge.

STRINGS

CHARACTER PROFILES

These 2 pages lists the characters of

the story along with their story profiles.

PLOT PAGES

The following 4 pages are the encapsulated plot

 of the entire story and are edited for brevity.

SCRIPT PAGES

These 4 pages are the writer's visualization

of the story complete with written direction of the

action, caption placement, etc. to serve as a guide to the artist.

These are for the first 3 pages shown realized below

ORIGINAL ART

Three pages of the fully realized penciled art done from the script.

The "x"'s note where black is placed for the inker.

The word balloons and captions are pasted in

with black backgrounds already printed.

                             

This artwork is copyright @ 2002 by Jeff Austin

Jeff is an accomplished professional artist with 20 years published

experience in the comics industry.  For more of Jeff's work

click on his name in my Link section.

Dark Adventure Origins

     Before ebay, the stores, the conventions and even the flea market, Dark Adventure was a band.  In the early '80s a small group of friends and party buddies were gathered in a hobbled together semi-soundproof jam room pondering life and playing rock and roll.  Eventually, the need arose for a name and a list was posted on the door for suggestions and many humorous tags ensued.
    
     Our group of friends had a bastardized in-language used with each other.  Something ludicrous and ridiculous was, "darklin'" or "dark!" for short.  Appearing on the band name list one night was Dork Adventure and the next night the "o" was crossed out and an "a" added for "dark!"  Several of us claimed responsibility for the monicker later, but that night Dark Adventure the band was born.
    
     The group went through a few incarnations and lasted several years.  The group never broke out with a contract but they remain in my estimation the epitome of the freewheeling jam band.  Those were heady days and though many of us have drifted apart over time, a few of us have remained great friends.  As to the origins of the name?  I give credit to myself, Johnny, Bo and James combined, as we have all staked claim at one time or another. 
    
     I had pondered starting a limo service with the name and eventually morphed that into Dark Adventure Comics.  At one time I had a 1968 Cadillac hearse geared for shows emblazoned with the logo and the tagline, "Your Final Stop For Comics."  That and reactions to it are stories for another day as this space belongs to a select other few.  And now...
    
     Ladies and gentlemen...

DARK ADVENTURE

     The leader of the band, the inimitable Johnny Scales.  A lead and rhythm guitarist, songwriter, producer and overall talented musician.  I have incredible riffs blazened into my mind to this day from his Ibanez.  He could go melodic, blend into heavy metal then take flight into fuzzy acid melodrama.

      Johnny had an incredible ear for music and a background ranging from blues to the alternative.  When matched with a fellow guitarist of his own caliber he could transcend lead and rhythm into a blend of blissed-out zone.  I still occasionally listen to some old tapes just to hear that Ibanez roar and soar.

     On the drums...Mr. Bo Shealy!  Beginning in high school, I have had the extreme benefit of watching Bo's development from basic rhythm to becoming a bombastic, driving and virtually unstoppable wall of percussion.  Bo played in everything from a Buddy Holly tribute band and studio work to clubs and stages.

     One may think this writer exaggerates when describing this guy-I do not.  I have seen hundreds of bands and listened to all of the percussionists and even studied various beat structures inside and out to assist in creating poetry.  To this date, the most incredible drum adventure and solo I have ever experienced came from the hands and feet of Bo at his kit in his bedroom in 1981.  James Hussey was there and can also bear witness to that intoxicating 15 minutes.

     As is true with most bands on some instruments, Dark Adventure had a revolving bass slot.  One day, Lane Jenkins decided to pick up the bass and the position was filled.  Not only did he have the looks, but he also developed a singular technique that allowed him to fill beat and hold structure when his beginning skills faltered.

     Lane eventually quit the bass when he married and I have always felt his was a talent never fully realized.  Going back through old recordings his playing progressed from the amateurish to the polished in a shorter period of time than one could comprehend.  Lane was a gifted soul and a fine comrade.

     Lastly, no band is true without a voice.  Jeff, "The Rock" (way before that Dwayne guy) supplied that with force.  A classically trained and award-winning vocalist, Jeff could sing a tender ballad as well as heavy metal power vocals.

     Jeff was the first of the two band vocalists and his was the longest and best tenure.  Jeff had the most range and endurance but also had the worst proclivities concerning practice and temperance.  His still remains the voice of a savored period of musicality in my thoughts.

                                      

DARK ADVENTURE AT MARGARITAVILLE - 1985   

     The above photo shows Dark Adventure approaching their peak.  Pictured from left to right is Johnny, Bo, Lane and at the far right, Joe Feeney.  Never a member of Dark Adventure, Joe had his own groups, including the seminal punk band, Lentil Week.

     Joe was and is a phenomenally gifted guitarist, bass player and journalist.  When Joe took the stage with Johnny it could be dueting maestroes, each attempting to outdo each other while also layering each other's flights with rhythm.  One notable night, Bo's kit was knocked akimbo mid-song by a passed out Jeff.  Salvaging the moment, Joe and Johnny continued on together and just that duo broiled the stage with sheer genius as they managed to not only destroy on guitars but somehow miraculously interchange the persussion parts with one another while successfully engaging the audience's attention away from the problem.

     I must also give a nod to Kevin (vocalist #2) and Simon (bass) of the later incarnation of the band and the rest of the ever changing body of friends, supporters and party animals: the late George Caldwell and Chris Westphal (rest in peace, guys), James, Steve, Logan, Adam, Scott and all the "chicks and dudes" of that era.

*************

     One could ask where was I in the midst of all the bluster I pontificated on above?  Not on stage.  I am not very talented on musical instruments and as such, would never attempt to play the game with those gifted fellows at their level.  We were a great group of friends, each with his own talent.  I wrote several songs for Dark Adventure and over the years, numerous more for other groups.

     Still, every now and then I pull out a tape and press play.  It is a song I wrote called, Parsifal, to music composed by the band.  There is a long and soft guitar and cymbal lead-in to a swooshing and involved Trower-like orchestration that begins the vocals:

I'm the last Grail seeker

I'm the virgin knight

there's no blood on my blade

but the horror in my eyes

is the vulture's stare

on this misty scene

above the bodies of the men

hanging from the trees...

     and so on.  Not the greatest lyrics I ever wrote but I play it for the presence it has and for the subtle and complexly beautiful work on it by Johnny and Bo.  It stands as one of the most remarkable pieces from the short-lived band that created many long-lived memories.

De-Evolution

     As Halloween approaches, we find our sensibilities surrounded by commercialized horror of every conception, lauding us to find high camp enjoyment in every nightmare. Great fun until the noise in the yard is not a cat, the scrape at the window not a tree branch and the scratching by the bedside not your own.

     Still, it all could very well be something innocuous. Or not. That base difference creates fear and it is thrilling and breathy and at the core, arousing.

     Dangerous.

     As a young man attempting to be a writer, I wished to understand further the aberrant side of human nature to not only successfully ferret out the truth but to also better protect myself and mine from it's dark machinations as it seemingly masked itself not unlike Halloween.

     Over the course of time, research and situational moments of random living I soon experienced more closely the blackness of the human condition and the breadth of evil's reach. I found that white seeps to gray and darkens to black all around us and inside us all of the time and at the heightened stages of stress, desire and passion or all three combined we have a Devil's mix of sex, grit and mayhem-a true Halloween every day. Just ask any cop.

     I find we are all base and gray in our moments of climax-especially sexual. It is only in how we choose to create that moment and then recover from it that we find ourselves waning into white or clouding into black...that it is in choice where we find our hearts...or lose them. We are all the same until a choice is made.

     One's experience of those choices may bring certain questions. Who are you face to face with another at passion's end? What presence and beingness do you bring to the party, at the party and afterwards? Good Halloween or Bad Halloween? I can only speak for myself.

     This next piece exists in those scant moments of climax in which we are all perhaps akin and alike. What is missing are the choices, for they are uniquely and individually the reader's. It has a tongue in cheek title and it is called:

THE LITTLE DEATH

     I'm on fire.
     Every body inch an undying flame consuming.
     My breath burns hot-
     Scalding winter air into misty fog glomming...
And I...
     my arms, my thighs are bathed indigo crimson-
     skin smoking with surface glow embers.
     Coals spark in my eyes crackling.
Fire is in my chest spreading.
Fire is on my lips licking.
Fire is in my loins boiling.
     I'm in flames. Truly.
Yet, inferno's night cools
and comforting as a lady's hand
it soothes.
     I become the blend of ice and heat
     that rules
     'til it ignites, engulfs
and again...I am fuel
for something that burns
and casts away home.
     I am a man
     in this red
     and I am doom
and we are naked together-
     our tongues tasting prey.

Sometimes Obscure

This is another piece from this time period:

AWASH IN ARIAS

You came like water sounds

(rushing, running, rippling

     then still).

The buoy in the tide

the threads pulled of your colors

     (patterns in self).

A quilt of you I drink by the glassful.

You remain in flow and ebb

like dolphin arias

     (or whale song blues).

My heart moves like tree limbs

breezing wind symphonies

     (to seraphim).

You come to me in winding

waterfall clothes

     (and I slip in).

A Romantic Era

     There exists several periods in my work where women, romance and passion surfaces as a recurring theme.  My heart was weaned on the Romantics, both in verse and art.  The emotions existing in this form are as no other and the experience in life of them are as no other.  Undoubtedly, I will post much from these periods and the work ranges from the classical in all love's orchestral and lyrical divinations to the modern blunt shock of sexual truisms.
 
     Once established, I began to delve into the experimental form and meters of the experiential use of wording, line and sound placements.  Some of my more abstract usages of form helped bring attention to my work which led to some early success.  There is a range from the simplistic to the arguably dense to the inviolate and some speak, some sing, some ice and some reveal.  Ultimately, it was my goal to give the reader a sense of experience in the work with a built-in soundtrack the mind hears with a flow the eye sees. 

The following is an early attempt:

I FELL INTO THE SKY

She was dancing...

 hands rolling over

  turning and sliding

    gracefully dodging the air

      in careen and about

        bent poised back

          with her smooth neck straight

            her legs tilted

              swaying round and round

                of report to her spirit
                  swirling and pivoting
                    transparent veils wafting in

                     arcing free delight

                        choir lips singing

                          and her eyes wet glistening

                            in the dewy air staring

                              at me so far into me

                               as if to see if I'm drowning

                                she gazes while moving

                                swirls fingertip touches with

                                hands upward twirling

                                in air caress traces

                                a hip's slowing sway

                                fair gracefully motive

                                quiet padding feet

                                swishing nearer

                               leaping flying

                              landing at my feet rising

                            circling close I feel breathing

                          hear hair's rhythmic whispers

                        know passion splashed eyes

                      taste brine sweat of her body

                    wonder in this time

                   hope dream in this time

                 her placed kisses falling

               down a hot cheek trickling

             like sand pulling down through

           and tumbling into

         the hourglass' curved center

       as breasts dance light on my body

     she sifts chaffe from my knowledge

   beauty rises

 sand falls

like a man in his seduction.