Monsters

 “The Werewolf is neither man nor wolf, but a satanic creature with the worst qualities of both.”
                      -John Colton

       Pictured below is my favorite werewolf of all time: Oliver Reed in The Curse of The Werewolf.     
       Monsters were a huge part of my life as a kid. I thought about them, bought books and magazines about them, and talked about them constantly. I played monsters, drew monsters, and spent countless hours putting together and painting the Aurora monster models.
       When there would be a monster movie on television, I would got so excited that I temporarily couldn’t function. I would speak so fast you couldn’t understand me, and my mind would race so quick that I couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds. And I felt euphoric, long before I knew what that word meant.
       Monsters were my childhood cocaine. And I was an addict.
       They provided an escape from my pervasive overall unhappiness. Monsters were magic to me, and magic, in all it’s forms and incarnations and mechanizations, gave me something else to focus on besides how much I hurt.
       Monsters saved my life.