Well, since Will Federman of Hollywood Sellouts has actively called me out, I must dust off this little blog. I shan’t back down from a direct challenge, especially one that is so snidely put. Mr. Federman, it’s go time. Let the purple prose flow!
As I sit here and write this, I notice that a weak, ochreous sunlight streams languidly through my half-closed blinds. My heart lifts. You see, this is a kind of light that is particular to autumn, a season I truly love. The invigoratingly brisk air, the crystal clear star-lit nights, the symchromatic eruption of the treetops, the tangled pumpkin patches, the roadside apple stands selling fresh cider… or in my case, since I live in LA (and the Valley no less!), simply the weak, ochreous sunlight streaming languidly through my half-closed blinds.
It’s tough to be in an autumn mood when you have to run your air conditioning unit due to hundred degree temperatures. But that’s not my only gripe. The stars are obscured by light pollution and brown vapid smog. The palm trees remain evergreen. Pumpkin patches are Christmas tree lots packed with the picked orange orbs laying on a thin bed of hay. And there are no roadside apple stands, let alone real cider. But I have that sunlight. That beautifully autumn sunlight.
I grew up on the East coast, so I always was a little sensitive to the fact that Southern California essentially strips two whole seasons away from you. The absence of winter may be fine for some people, but I’ll be damned if I can find someone who would be happy about losing autumn.
So when I see that autumn sun in the sky, I get a tad hyper. I completely overcompensate for the lack of all things that I associate with autumn. I go out and buy anything and everything pumpkin. “Well so do I” says an obnoxious reader. No you don’t. Not like me anyway. I buy pumpkin cookies, pumpkin bread, pumpkin doughnuts, pumpkin pie, pumpkin beer, pumpkin cupcakes, pumpkin coffee, pumpkin tea, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin pasta, pumpkin shakes, pumpkin butter, pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin seeds, pumpkin cake – sometimes even actual pumpkins! And I buy these pumpkin items in duplicate; in triplicate; in quadruplicate! I’m obsessed; shit, I’m sweating like a heroin addict right now just thinking about it.
Of course it doesn’t stop there. I’ll search for miles to get the closest thing I can to fresh apple cider. The fact that the “apple cider” I end up purchasing isn’t exactly great doesn’t matter because I’ll run home and mull the hell out of it. Everything is better mulled. I’ll make gallons of mulled apple cider before November even hits.
Unfortunately, pumpkin and apple derivatives are not enough to stave my autumn hunger. I’ll wear a jacket in the evening while the rest of the Angelenos sport short sleeves. I’ll stroll for countless hours down seasonal aisles. I’ll haunt the autumn craft section of Michaels and actually consider making my very own cute scarecrow, cornucopia, or holiday themed wreath. Do you now understand how sick I am? Do you now understand what you ungrateful autumn experiencing denizens of the East Coast, Midwest, and Pacific Northwest, are taking for granted? “But I do all these things too” interjects the same obnoxious reader. Shut up. You’re ruining my overly long setup.
My overzealous celebration of autumn in Los Angeles hits its peak with the king of all autumny things. “Thanksgiving?” shouts that same damn reader. No asshole, I was talking about Halloween.
Yes, Halloween – the time of ridiculously overproduced Hollywood costume parties, Universal’s “Halloween Horror Nights”, and, of course, the very homoerotic West Hollywood Halloween Carnival. Being one who never really liked the whole LA culture, none of these events really got me into the autumn spirit. In fact they all often seemed like chores; mere social obligations.
A couple of years ago, however, I hit upon an idea that satisfied the addiction. This is something that every junkie, alcoholic, and bulimic knows all too well… the binge. Oh yeah, that nonstop whirlwind that, when finished, leaves your brain wondering, “what the hell happened while I was gone?”
This particular binge came in the form of a 24-hour Halloween horror movie marathon. And if you ever wanted to test your physical and mental endurance, then brother this is the event for you.
Now, like any geek, I’ve participated in several of the standard six to ten hour horror movie marathons. Get a few gory flicks, add some junk food, a case or two of Mountain Dew, a few close friends, and you’re in for a great time. But the 24-hour marathon is an entirely different animal. I knew that it would be from the start; and even up to the zero hour, I wasn’t sure I was going to go through with it. Luckily I had somehow conned my roommate (the only one who answered the call to duty, by the way) into joining me, so I couldn’t back down. And I’m sure glad that I didn’t. What a fantastic, mind-bending experience. It was like condensing everything that makes autumn, well… autumn, into one day.
My roommate and I gathered in the living room at about 11:20PM on October 30th; freshly woken from our power naps. We shook out the cobwebs and got the room ready for the event. Soda, potato chips, nachos with salsa, and a giant bowl of fun size candy were all brought into our den of terror. I then wisely made the biggest pot of double strength coffee imaginable.
The excitement was palatable. This was crazy! 24 hours of movies. What were we thinking?
We watched the clock with bated breath. It was like Christmas when I was a kid. 11:57, 11:58, 11:59, 11:59, 11:59; damn it, change! Just then the clock struck twelve. We popped in a DVD and we were off!
24 hours of movies. We only moved to get more food or go to the bathroom. We fueled ourselves on candy, caffeine, frozen hors d’oeuvres, and delivery. We woke each other up if we dozed. My head spun. Pizza, mozzarella sticks, movies, Mountain Dew. I was somewhere between waking and sleeping. Mulled apple cider, movies, pumpkin pie, taquitos. My eyes were bloodshot. I was shaking from a sugar high. Movies, potato skins, fried chicken, coffee. And then, in what seemed like days later, the closing credits of Monster Squad were rolling on the screen. It was12:07 AM on November 1st. I slowly shuffled into my room, dove into my bed, and passed out until noon.
And now I see that magical ochreous autumn sunlight, and I can’t wait to do it again.













RSS
Facebook
twitter