June 2010 Articles (58)

Not too sure if this will be announced on Radio City, so I just wanted to let you, guys, know that, like every year, I'll be away from my computer and any Internet connection for Summer season. See you in Fall... !

Lights out, everybody.

On Miskatonic Mondays, we celebrate the "weird" fiction of HP Lovecraft and the genre of otherworldly horror that it spawned.

This week, we continue our look into the macabre world of Herbert West, The Reanimator." Written by Lovecraft between Halloween 1921 and June 1922, Herbert West: Reanimator is a six part serial originally published in Home Brew magazine.

Below, I've…

An illustration for a piece of music produced for Peppermill Records by Terminal 11 : "We're Just Taking It Back". The concept album, titled 2999, imagines what music is, as this third millenium comes to its ending. The artist, Terminal 11, describes this track as follows :

"I imagined by 2999 producers turn to outdated equipment from…

A whole story is attached to this picture. I will gladly share it with anyone who can afford to waste five minutes.

A loooooong time ago, one night sometime in the seventies, when Disco era was at its peak and dancing all night long at Le Palace, the Parisian equivalent of the Studio 54 in NYC, was the thing to do, I had left the party shortly before dawn,…

Lights out, everybody.

On Miskatonic Mondays, we celebrate the "weird" fiction of HP Lovecraft and the genre of otherworldly horror that it spawned.

This week, we continue our look into the macabre world of Herbert West, The Reanimator." Written by Lovecraft between Halloween 1921 and June 1922, Herbert West: Reanimator is a six part serial originally published in Home Brew magazine.

Below, I've…

... or, like we say in French, futur antérieur. Meaning "coming first, before, prior to..." Don't you like this idea... the future set before the past ?? Well, you also call it future perfect, don't you ? I like the idea of some ideal future, too, I must…

The late morning air clung to me like a hot, wet blanket. A bastard of a late May even by Virginia standards, the humid, poisonous air clawed its way harshly down the nasal passages. The line stretched around the block. A thousand people, queued up in the bastard sun, sweating beneath layers of black or dark grey wool blend, awaited a chance to work for the Marine Corps at Quantico, VA. It was the first gauntlet on an arduous hiring process of the type only the government can…