Back from the beyond... impressions of the trail

Sometimes I don't know where to begin.Yeah, I know. Start from the beginning. But when you've been on the road for a while, life becomes an endless stream of images, events, and sensations. I like this impressionistic mode. It's less structured and the flow is more random. Like giving up the computer for a week, I think giving up the normal routine, and letting the cards fall were they may, has been very good as well.

Impressions of Sitges (Sitges Festival Internacional de Cinema Fantastic de Catalunya):

Late nights in Nirvana fueled by alcohol & karaoke, amidst the backdrop of the surf. Late mornings eating in silence with knowing smiles. People waving from a white cabana restaurant. Floating in the endless sea while it drowns the waking world away, and life measures down to one drifting cloud. Washing the sand off of tiny, sparkling seashells. Narrow, winding streets, that no matter which way you turn, always open towards the shore. Long lines of film afficianados, shifting from foot to foot, as they casually wait along the pavement for the next movie to start. Endless streams of champagne fueled gossip. Heavy graveyard marker stones of the long dead laden with surprisingly ornate art nouveau script.

Self and director Can Evrenol talk Turkey, literally. (photo by LG White Lola Gunn)

There's a continuous maelstrom of people you know from other times and places, blended with new faces, and yet everyone knows everyone in some sort of context, while they lick their wounds and celebrate their triumphs. I guess this makes it more like a past, present, and future reunion of sorts - survivors from the film fest trenches. Little dogs on leashes and sauntering feral cats lazily taunting them. Naked men walking down the shoreline casually cruising for other men. Yay, yay, for Jagermeister, and new friends to share it with. Standing outside the Prado theatre and sobbing after the documentary MILIUS had finished, feeling that life is often too cruel. Then a low grade panic sets in, and I know I have to get my ass into gear- life is also short, and there's too many things I haven't done or completed yet. More late nights talking with opinionated and smart women, who are experts in their creative fields, without the usual bullshit cattiness which goes a long way towards the last time I was there and a certain 'slee-z' level actress went out of her way to successfully obliterate the future I'd been dreaming of. Being given the sage advice I should say 'bless you' to those who do harm, and then walk away.

Composer Simon Boswell, director Richard Stanley, self, and interpreter at the fascinating and lengthy Q&A session after the L'AUTRE MONDE screening. (photo by Ivan de Castres)

Expectant faces in the q & a after the screening, and telling myself to slow down and choose my words carefully, and silently wishing I didn't feel so tongue tied when put on the spot. Autumn's chill on bare legs late into the night. Shaking sand from snowy white hotel towels. Creative sparks so bright you could literally see them in the night air. Trying desperately to figure out what the time was and never succeeding. Smoking au naturelle on the balcony and no one cares. The old chapel at the tip of the inlet being the first, and last, oddly comforting image I see when I sleep and wake up. Scrambling to see as many cool movies as possible, only there's never enough time to see them all.

RAWR!!! Director Richard Stanley, director Aram Garriga, maestro Simon Boswell, and self in front of the infamous Sitges icon. (photo by LG White Lola Gunn)

Impressions of Lausanne (Lausanne Underground Film & Music Festival):

What is old is new again. The low level buzz of youth searching for art and what their own personal meaning and interpretations are.

Apocalyptic my pretty pony! (fantasmes et tramautismes de l'enfance) photo by alexisrochatphotogtaphies

Ravens staring boldly at you in filtered sunshine and croaking rudely from ornate perches. Timeliness. Cosmic sunsets across the lake in hues of majestic golds and pinks. The magnetism of the jagged Alps rising in the distance - it's easy to see how Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein in such surroundings. Being told about the magic mushrooms which are infamous in the spot where Mary Shelley wrote her Gothic masterpiece. Wondering what strange beasts howl on their snowy slopes during such a powerful full moon. Odd mixtures of smooth modern surfaces against ornately crumbling facades. Watching A FIELD IN ENGLAND and wanting to stand up at the end and shout 'thank you for letting my make up my own mind as a viewer'.

How dead is dead? You be the judge... A FIELD IN ENGLAND

Affluence and influence, and yet always tastefully so. Spiral mists rising off the still waters of the lake in the gentle rain. The smell of Gruyere cows and the taste of real fondue. Feeling ignorant for not being bi-lingual, let alone tri-lingual. Being regaled with stories and songs from my teenage hero's. Clambering up the intense grade of the cobble-stones of Le Rue du Petite Chene every morning and realizing why everyone who lives there is so fit. Intense conversations about the supernatural and the intimate sharing of personal experiences. People who felt like family even though I'd only met them for the first time. The purr of a finely tuned engine. Civilized tea houses and pastry shops for as far as the eye can see. Did I mention chocolate? And more chocolate? Being lost and tired, and more lost after getting conflicting directions. Then, a taxi magically showing up out of nowhere to save us. Falling asleep during an underground movie from the 70's only to happily lucidly dream a whole new plot. Action versus reaction, and being surrounded by the hopeful faces of people who are good to their word. This place is full of secrets.

See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. Director Richard Stanley, self, and the mighty Jello Biafra in front of the H.R. Giger museum in Gruyere. I still haven't fully processed the genius of this place, but promise to write as much as possible about it in the very near future. Talk about inspiration!

The hour grows late and my grammar is getting worse by the minute. Needless to say a very good time was had by all. It was just great to be there and be a part of the surroundings. I felt really lucky and grateful in turns. And I owe a big 'thank you' to all the festival organizers, and hospitality people, who made sure we were taken care of so spectacularly. Like I've said before, travel and new places quicken the blood, it's like a transfusion for creativity. With the turning of the seasons and winter coming on, I know it's time to roll up the sleeves and focus on getting the next Saurimonde book finished. It'll be a turbulent journey, but like always, I hope you'll be along for the ride...

Much love from where the world's touch,

S-xx

Magical Mystery Trail...

I've been here. I've been there... Actually, I've been finishing up a couple of projects and embarking on a new one which I will be announcing soon. Time has become more scarce than I would wish it to be. In a perfect world I would get up (notice I skipped the word morning), take a long walk through the forest, and have a croissant and some cafe au lait. Then I would sit down at my desk, in my comfy chair, and get down to business and put all the crazy thoughts crowding my brain down onto the page. But who's world is perfect? Certainly not mine. In my existence it's a beautiful and sad fact that chaos reigns.

So I figured as I'm up pulling another all-nighter that I'd make a couple of announcements:

Next stop on the magical mystery trail. The new mind-wrenching documentary, L'AUTRE MONDE (THE OTHERWORLD), will be playing at the Sitges Film Festival on Tuesday, October 15 at 16:30 at the Prado. Please come and join myself (co-writer), director Richard Stanley, composer Simon Boswell, and producer Fabrice Lambot (Metaluna Productions) for the screening. Then, because the dagger never stops spinning, it's onwards to The Lausanne Underground Film & Music Festival (LUFF) where it will be screening on October 17 at 22:30 (Paderewski), and October 19 at 16:15 (Zinéma - Salle Thierry Jobin). Be there or be square!

Speaking of being square, I'm still wondering what to wear and staring at my clothes in horror as I always do before a film festival. I don't hate them. They don't hate me - they're just well-worn. I need to be seriously hit up by the glamour fairy and she seems to have headed to south with the warm weather. It's nothing a little spackle and possibly a beach can't fix. It'll do. It'll have to. 

I've gotta run... Planes, trains, and automobiles to catch and connections to make... 

Much love from where the world's touch,

S. - xx

All the kings horses...

Can you feel it in the air? This untimely chaos, or flux, may have something to do with the turning of the seasons. As much as I love the fall, I'm always loathe to see summer go. And summer was exceptionally short this year, so it's doubly hard. As much as I try to love the cold weather I'm a desert creature at heart and love the heat. Don't get me wrong, I have great respect for the dark goddess, it's just the cold I can't take. Give me sunshine, or warm sands. Give me a hot spring, or a steaming bath. I'm pretty easy to please. Really though, this has been a transitional week of beginnings, sudden endings, and other high weirdness.

Au revoir golden light of summer. Photo by Richard Stanley.

So yeah. Feeling kind of guilty. Feeling like I've been a little neglectful here. Comes with the creative territory...

After the all the fabulousness that is Paris, I fell ill. Really freaking ill. Like laying in bed and aching in every joint of my body kind of ill while the world is bathed in a demented heat haze ill. I'm still sick with the last lingering effects of something caught in my lungs and chest that refuses to leave. This kind of thing is rare for me.

So, deep breath. I need to do this. I've been feeling horribly guilty about an issue and I haven't known what to do about it. My friend Amy Wallace's memorial was yesterday and I didn't write anything for her. I knew I couldn't be there, but it would have been the least I could have done. She would have done so for me. I can make all the excuses in the world about why I didn't do so, but at the end of the day I didn't do it and that sucks on my part. So I will do it here.

Things I loved about Amy.

1. Her sense of humor. I loved that I could be talking to her about Wilheim Reich and orgone boxes and suddenly she would giggle and admit she used to own one and that her and her then boyfriend used to make out in them all the time.

2. I used to love the phone conversations we would have in LA - literally until the batteries ran out. She always knew where I was coming from, whether it was happiness, some new strange obsession about the Middle Ages, or a broken heart. I loved her anecdotes and the way she would get lost in telling a story and then manage to find her way back and tie the whole thing together. It was always a meandering and thoroughly entertaining trail.

3. Any was never judgmental. She was talented, creative, and adventurous, and lived an extraordinary life.  Maybe it's some fluke of alchemical chance, but when the impossible becomes possible there's little need for judgement. Life takes such bizarre twists and turns that nothing really surprises you and instead becomes the norm. And somehow through it all you manage to keep some sort of sanity. I think the key to this is sense of humor - see first thing I loved about her.

4. Moral quagmires are my personal Achilles heel and I often get down about these kind of things. Amy always gave me confidence when I was low, and she was a great listener. That is a precious commodity within itself, a rare quality which showed the kind of person she really was.

I'm not always a great friend, but Amy always made me feel like one. I get too caught up in what I am doing. I like when things are in fast forward. I like to have goals and be focused towards them, and in all this I forget people sometimes. It's not because I don't love them. I just forget. It's not my best quality, along with this sense of there will always be another time, or there will always be more time. My best and longest friends know and accept this. But the truth is there is never more time. Time is a precious commodity. No more procrastination. No more forgetting people. I don't want to be that person anymore. I know there's nothing in this world we can actually hold onto. All things are lost in time, but while I'm here I'm going to make the most of it. My head still hangs in shame, but the best I can do is learn to do better.

Self and Amy Wallace at one of her book signings in LA a few years ago.

Even in the midst of all this unwellness, Melissa and I managed to finally get down a solid structure for the next Saurimonde book. It's very exciting, and has fucking twists that I never saw coming until they appeared on the page. The book will culminate with a sabbath to end all witches sabbaths. And that's all I'll say for now. But there will be enough sex, death and esoteric content to be just as over the top and entertaining as the first book. At least fingers crossed it will be. I'll be sharing bits and pieces of it in the upcoming weeks.

I received the loveliest gift from my beautiful friend Una this morning. It was an golden apple she picked from the orchards of Avalon on the slopes of the Glastonbury Tor on the fall equinox. I'm well acquainted with the symbolism, and just the sight of the lone green apple warmed my heart, and when I read the story behind it, I cried. I'm just putting this out there as a reminder to my friends, and to myself, that just knowing someone out there is thinking of you can make all the difference in the world some days. Who can you remind today?

Glastonbury Tor. In where lies the orchard of Avalon.

I told you this was a place where I could be honest and unload. Some of these posts will be heavy, some will be breezy. I've got a dark and complex heart, but I love life. Still, October is right around the corner (and will probably be here already by the time I get a chance to post this) and film festival season will be in full swing. There will be new adventures in the making. Like writing, travel always cheers me up. Landing in a new place stirs my blood. Being in a foreign city, immersed in its rhythms and its history, is exhilarating and inspiring. The imagination runs wild with infinite possibilities... and that's always a good thing.

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx

Paris L'Etrange is rockin'!

Have just returned on a sleeper train from the L'Etrange Festival in Paris for the European premiere of L'AUTRE MONDE which was a blast! Forgive me here for being a little half-assed and sleep deprived, but I wanted to get this down before life gets in the way and I start to forget.

These kind of events are often nerve wracking at first, but this one was doubly so because the documentary is such an intimate piece of work for me, containing many years of research, and it's the first time I appear on the big screen telling a rather fantastical, yet true story. People who have supernatural encounters and talk openly about them are generally treated with derision, or like lunatics. This thought has been a faint echo in the back of my mind since I first gave the interview to camera. Still, I think being honest about these kinds of experiences is more important than a few jeers and sneers at the end of the day. We live in a magical universe. It permeates the gray of our existence. It is there just beyond reach, and it is waiting. Sometimes, the unseen can be seen. If this documentary makes someone look at their world in a different way, or helps them give voice to their own experiences in the borderlands, then I'm thrilled. These were the thoughts swirling around in my head before the screening. I didn't know I was going to be presenting on stage as generally screen writers are pretty much left in the shadows, so I didn't really prepare anything and just sort of rambled thank you a bunch of times. But I meant everyone of those thank you's even if they were not my most eloquent. And thanks to the train delays, and barely getting there in time, I was still wearing flip flops as I hadn't made it back to the hotel to change my shoes, hence the last minute decision to go barefoot. Trés bohemian, non?

The after parties (notice the usage of the plural) went on into the small hours of the morning. I think we must have closed at least four different places, but the last one is admittedly a little fuzzy. What a strange and amazing posse we accrued that night of old friends, new friends, assorted film makers, musicians and producers. It was a little like stepping out of time into this fantastical and strangely protected bubble, where the surreal was the norm, and chance encounters happened every time you turned around. I love nights like this when it feels like anything is possible. The world was our oyster, and that's literally the last thing I had before we made our way back to the hotel through the winding side streets as dawn was just beginning to make her presence known.

Self, Matthieu Boulard, Richard Stanley, and Simon Boswell

I'll quickly write up some of the highlights as I could easily right a novel on all the reasons I love Paris. I caught Adan Jodorowsky's short film, THE VOICE THIEF, which completely floored me. In this day in age of shrinking budgets, and making the best you can on the shortest amount of time available, it was such a pleasure to see a film so beautifully and meticulously crafted, and with so much style. It really is visual feast for the senses and is very keeping in the aesthetic started by his father so many years ago. I can't wait to see more from Adan as he's shown himself to be enormously talented. If you get the chance to see it run, don't walk. I don't want to give away any more, but I can't recommend it highly enough.

Scene from THE VOICE THIEF directed by Adan Jodorowsky. Starring Asia Argento & Cristobal Jodorowsky.

Other highlights included having lunch with Jello Biafra and Pakito Bolino and being attacked by bombastic pigeons at the table while trading Wesley Willis anecdotes. Being coerced at the last minute to see the band Ghost Dance play who were quite fabulous, and then stealing the group after their set and going back to our friend Matthieu's place to continue the concert on and on until the wee hours of the morning. Friday the 13th started the second screening of L'AUTRE MONDE in which some of the audience members had some surprisingly touching comments and observations after the film. Our last night in Paris ended with one of the posse who shall remain nameless (although a video does exist!) getting the number 13 temporarily branded on their arm with a wood burning pen.

Adventures aside, I'd like to thank the everyone connected to the L'Etrange Festival for being awesome hosts and putting together such an amazing event, and our friend Matthieu Boulard for sharing some of his beautiful city and many adventures with us, and everyone involved with the film for making L'AUTRE MONDE a reality.  

Photo by Fred Ambroisine

I think the smile pretty much says it all...

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx

My Friday is now Sunday...

Journal post from yesterday:

A tension throbs in the air like an unconscious hum underpinning the day-lit world. Something is wrong with the valley this year. The mayflowers bloomed in June. The pears are still green on the trees. The owls only came back a week ago. Summer visited for a couple of weeks and then blew a fuse. Already the air is cold and crisp, the shadows sharpened, and it feels like late fall. The villagers are busy stockpiling wood for what promises to be a brutal and vicious winter. The laughter of Our Lady of the Snows can be heard echoing with a furiously icy chill. People in the streets are on edge and the smiles seem less friendly. No sounds of laughter coming from late night parties interrupt the evening silence. Everyone is watching out of the corner of their eyes and holding their collective breaths. Will fortunes turn? Can we will summer back and beg her just to give us a few more days of warmth and pleasure? It feels like nature and the old gods are abandoning us as they wave their heads sadly and sink back into further silence. Day after day of pallid gray is enough to darken anyone's thoughts...

End of journal entry.

Slightly moody, non? I'm finishing up projects and chucking a little glamour into my life before the European premiere of 'L'AUTRE MONDE' at the L'Etrange Film Festival in Paris. I've just finished creating a new character for another script and have been pulling my hair a little trying to figure out some pretty way-out-there science. One way or another I'll make the facts work and give a little more authenticity to the narrative. And we've also just started writing the follow up novel to Saurimonde, which is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Deep breath. Fall is always a good time for me to start these major creative endeavors as the turning of the seasons invites introspection. But am I ready to write another book? Possibly not. Is anyone ever really ready? Rhetorical question. The last book was an inner journey to hell for me at times. Can I be that brave again? Do I have any real choice? I have a fairly clear sense of the story even if we don't have a hard outline yet. And as these things go, when you start toying with different entities and revisiting forgotten legends and pieces of lore, the synchronicities and coincidences start happening fast and furiously. It's a little like waking a slumbering beast. I wonder if these things are always around me and I don't notice because I'm tuned to another channel that day, or if they happen as markers, little signs to show me I'm on the right path. I'd prefer to believe the second statement. For me, every story I delve into lately ends up being about healing sources (as in ancient water spots - where we get the word sorciere from - those dark women who would scry the sacred waters) and snakes and ladies. Or ladies with aquatic appendages (like mermaids with two tails). Regeneration and rebirth as opposed to virginity and shame. I suspect these will be big themes in the next novel.

I meant to do this on Friday as I want it to start to be an ordinary part of this blog. Fridays are for posting things which have inspired me this week. (Let's just ignore the fact it's already Saturday and will be probably Sunday before I get this posted. In my defense the internet signal has been almost non existent.)

So here we go!

Film maker, Syl Disjonk (ETHEREAL CHRYSALIS) sent this new video he made of a film project they are trying to get together. http://www.jeanpronovost.com/en/the-sphinx.php#.UiUOrtKBnqE  I think Jean Pronovost's art work is extremely evocative and provocative and really rather astounding.  And remember what I said above about snakes and ladies?



My friend, and fellow esoteric researcher, Ashley Dayour (THE WHISPERS IN THE SHADOW), premiered the new video from his latest project THE DEVIL & THE UNIVERSE. I adore the last album and play it continuously when I'm writing.



THE DEVIL & THE UNIVERSE'S  music reminds me of idle pagan things. Of a collision of the distant past and near future.  Decaying cities and woodland elementals. Relics of a strange faith which constantly reinvent themselves. It's a heady brew.

There's a strong John Carpenter influence to their music. I'm a huge fan of his scores. Especially 'ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK' which is on heavy rotation around here. I've always had a scene in mind about a woman rollerskating wearing nothing but heavy gold glitter and shiny red lipstick, gliding along the floor with only a single spotlight accompanying her. There's red velvet plush seats around the roller rink only they're darkened, and somewhere out in the shadows she knows her lover is watching her even if she can't see him. She'll twist and turn gracefully, enjoying the sensation of wind blowing against her in time to minimalistic, yet catchy, electronic music (enter the score from 'ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK'). And you can guess where it goes from there. Okay. Maybe it's a personal fantasy. It'd make for a hell of an encounter, or real life erotic adventure, though.

Speaking of heady things, I was just introduced to the art of F.n. Vegas. I'm in awe and in love with her work. This was the first piece I encountered and literally, I can't stop staring at it. I'm always looking for new visual inspiration for writing scenes. Each book I work on has its own special portfolio of pictures which emanates on some level the same feel that I want to conjure into words. I search for images which are representations of something more than the mundane. It's hard to put a finger on it, but you know when you see it. There's some indefinable quality that stirs the blood... .

You can view more of her work here - http://www.etsy.com/shop/FnVegas

In another strange coincidence I just realized in grabbing the links for the artwork that the artist of the work above was the model for the life size woman in bronze with the cephalopod on her head which so entranced me in the video of Jean Provonost's work above. The worlds are small and Melusine is making her presence known once again.

Like I guessed at somewhere near the beginning of this post, it's now Sunday. All good intentions gone to hell. Funny how time flies when you're down the rabbit hole. Time would really have no meaning at all if this pesky thing called reality wouldn't keep rearing its ugly head. Reality wears a wrist watch it constantly taps, and it schedules meetings while haughtily staring down its nose at you and clucking under its breath that you have too much fun.

Fuck reality. We all need more fun and imagination, and the freedom to explore and share those things which inspire us. Celebrate your fellow artists. Celebrate those who enrich your life in any way. And celebrate yourself.

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx

The Otherworld and more!

The sun is out this morning. It's still bloody cold for the supposed dog days of summer, but the world seems all the brighter waking up to a brilliant review from the Hollywood Reporter about 'L'Autre Monde' (The Otherworld) which is a new feature length documentary directed by Richard Stanley and co-written by yours truly ( I also appear in the film to tell a very strange tale indeed!), shot by Karim Hussain, edited by Pat Tremblay, scored by Simon Boswell, and produced by Metaluna Productions.

 Link:  http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/review/lautre-monde-fantasia-review-616864  

I'd like to take a minute here to give a huge thank you to the crew, and everyone else involved with the film. It's been a labor of love for many who've given freely of their time and talent. And a huge thank to the people who appear in the film for sharing their stories and belief systems connected to this deeply strange and beloved corner of the world.

In other news... L'Autre Monde will be making its European Premiere at the L'Etrange Film Festival Edition XIX in Paris on September 10. Follow the link here for screening times and venues:  http://www.etrangefestival.com/fr/2013/programme

And in other, other news... I just received this pic from one of my favorite photographers, Jan Piere Texier, from a shoot done a few months back. He calls it 'Callipyge' (which is a polite term for very curvy bottom).

Someone else called it 'un couer ardent a écouter battre'... 'the ardent heart beats loudly'... I'm kind of in love with that thought...

The next installment in the Saurimonde series is beginning to take real shape and this book promises to quite another ride. More news on that subject coming very soon!

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx

Let's give it away now...

To celebrate these last dog days of summer we thought we'd go ahead and giveaway another paperback copy of Saurimonde on Goodreads. Follow the link below for your chance to win!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Saurimonde

by Melissa St. Hilaire

Giveaway ends September 04, 2013.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Want to know more about Saurimonde? Then take a peek at our teaser trailer:

Or check out the synopsis below:

Like a bird in a gilded cage, Saurimonde is trapped  between a brutally abusive husband, Gilles, who treats her like a possession, and a lover whose name she doesn't even know. The only thing she longs for is an escape. But to where? She should have been more careful in what she wished for because the day Gilles spies her and her lover together is her last mortal one. With the aid of the local wise woman, Elazki, Gilles gets his hands on a dangerous ancient potion. He figures out the perfect way to serve it to her – cooked into her lover's heart. One bite has dire consequences.

Left for dead by her husband at the river's edge, Saurimonde awakens to a whole new existence. Now she has become a part of the river itself. Days are spent in erotic encounters with unwary passers-by. Nights are spent in predatory pleasure, feasting on those she has seduced. 

As the body count begins to rise in the village, Gilles starts to suspect his wife is still alive. He enlists the help of Elazki, who has secrets of her own, and her darkly handsome nephew, Sordel. Newly returned after being banished by his magus master in the black lands, Sordel unknowingly  holds the key to all their fates. One will die, one will wish they were dead, and the other will fulfill their destiny.

Danger awaits them at every turn as they enter a realm where nothing is as it seems. Each will be forced to make terrible sacrifices. Will they be able to break the spell and stop the beautiful demonic creature Saurimonde has become? Can they possibly save her? Or will they too find a brutal death beneath the deep dark waters...

Think this roller coaster of a novel might be right up your alley? Then head on over to Goodreads and enter! 

The contest runs until September 4th.

We wish you all the very best of luck! 

From where the worlds touch,

S - xx