Dark haunting violin : Ghost Song by Max Ablitzer

I found this amazing artist while searching for theme songs to accomodate a ghost story reading. Haunting, yet eerily comforting as well. I have found myself playing it over and over.

Come Down

Come Down
This song is incredible, I can't find a you tube version. Sadie Jemmett

Charleston Stage Presents Nevermore | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Charleston Stage Presents Nevermore | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Charleston Stage Presents Nevermore, Edgar Allan Poe, The Final Mystery

A gentle breeze wafted the succulent aromas down East Bay Street and straight into Don's flaring nose. He had one thing on his mind at the time. Oysters. We were soon seated at the Community Table at Pearlz Oyster Bar for a few Ales and Oysters. Shells cracked, bottles clanked and conversation cranked. The Community Table as it’s title suggest, soon becomes affably just that as Desiree, a traveling nurse from West Virginia visiting Charleston, shared her coned and newspaper lined home cooked fries with us. Soon it was time to hobble the cobble down Queen and Church Street to our destination, the Dock Street Theatre. I have been so excited about this event. Opening night of Playwright Julian Wiles ~Nevermore, Edgar Allen Poe, The Final Mystery.~ I mean really, Charleston, Halloween and Poe go together like Plough mud, Hermit Crabs and lost flip flops. The theatre candelabra lighting was wrapped in webs. The curtains hung silent without noticeable movement as we read our brochures. My anticipation climbed as the lights dimmed. A curtain between two worlds, givers and takers if you will. The view from Poe's world on the other side of the curtains, summed up with his own words. “And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain, Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before” Very little is known about Poe's stay on Sullivan's Island, records amount to fragmented paragraph’s. Perhaps it was the fear of producing a stage play of this enormity from those few paragraphs that caused Playwright Julian Wiles to hit the proverbial wall, writer's block to the point of almost canceling the production. In desperation Julian Wiles tapped out a scene about writer's block. This scene dissolved the clot of the pen to the stylus and provided the path that webbed together the story of Edgar Allen Poe's triumphs and tragedies‘. Stage sets and costumery were incredible. I was so enthralled with a particular magical appearance scene that it left me whispering to Don as we do when we watch David Blaine. "Did you see the switch off?" he shook his head no. New York Guest Equity Actor, Andrew Gorell's performance as Edgar Allan Poe was stellar, leaving me both as charged as the Energizer Bunny and as low as Davy Jones locker. He boarded us early onto the wings of the Raven, weaving the tumultuous ride of Poe's highs and lows brilliantly. Without mentioning the entire cast. I note that in addition to Gorell, Scott Gibbs as Captain Jeremiah Reynolds, Harrison Grant and Cathy Ardrey in their respective roles were standouts. The entire unmentioned ensemble performed well, albeit a few opening night jitters. We were on the last Scene of the play, Scene #7. Knowing a’forehand that the ending of Edgar Allan Poe's life was mysterious, dark and daunting, I had resigned myself to the dark horse finale. Julian Wiles, Cast and ensemble led us expectantly to the edge of Poe's pit. The veneer that lies between witnessing the very moment that a brilliant light dims and crosses over to the other side. Surprisingly at the point where you think you should start feeling around your seat and the floor for your purse and jacket, Julian Wiles erased the darkness that would have trailed with us out onto the gas lantern lit Charleston streets. The play ~Nevermore~ runs October 19 -November 4, 2012. Photo: Courtesy of Charleston Stage. Photo credits are as follows: Left to Right: New York Guest Equity Actor Andrew Gorell as Edgar Allan Poe and Charleston Stage Resident Actor Josh Harris as Captain Amos Nimrod.

Carving Out Memories, Boos, & Ghouls | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Carving Out Memories, Boos, & Ghouls | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Carving out memories Boo's & Ghouls

Charleston, what a wonderfully eerie city for Halloween.  Moss hangs like phantom apparitions from creeping old oaks, bones of twisted hurricane ravaged trees line secluded beaches. Concrete angels guard centuries old graveyards. Marshes are aglow with glowing red eyes, bats flutter hurriedly to chimney and steeple alcoves at dusk. Gas lanterns glow yellow on cobblestone streets. Porches with blue ceilings guard against haints and evil spirits. Pirate's bones rattle in the marsh. Holy and Evil dwell together veiled by the thin curtain of daylight. Yes, Charleston is a Mecca for the thrill seeker.
October first, the adrenaline rush is on for me. The first tree void of it's leaves becomes a haint at dusk. A fist full of candy corn and I am conjuring visions of witches on broomsticks, sheets hanging from tree's and masked men revving chainsaw motors. Although I have had my share of supernatural experiences (I don't mean colon cleanses or juicing) I am the biggest fraidy cat in the world. I can't hardly watch a scary movie with Don during the rest of the year. But mention Halloween and I'm ready to stick knives in pumpkins, play creepy music and scare the bejesus out of people. I know, it's shamefully pagan, but I can't help myself. It's make believe, the one time of the year that it's acceptable for me to be totally ridiculous. And that I do.
So make believe it is. Let Grandaddy be a bad ass unicorn if he wants.  My daddy is 74 years old. He lives out in the country amidst corn, cotton, soy beans  and pines. The only cars that go by his house on a daily basis are the mail lady and the neighbors at the end of the road. On Halloween he will scare the kids with a Halloween mask and then hook up the trailer to the tractor and take everyone for a ride down the country road. At Christmas he suits up in a Santa Suit, full regalia giving the kids rides on a golf cart or Gator. Once he bush hogged his field in his Santa suit.
I've followed suit, no pun intended. Even if there's not a soul coming over. October 1st through the 31st, the house is decorated for Halloween. Before moving here from NC, we didn't have a single trick or treater for five years, but I was in full costume. My ya ya's came to visit for Halloween once and we had so much fun, just the four of us, out in the boonies. That year I was a nun, with a few bad habits, hidden in my habit.
Now, my hubby Don loves a prank as much as I do and knowing the girls were coming, he concocted this escaped monkey Halloween drama from a evening news story about an escaped research monkey from Wake Forest Primate Center. http://www.wakehealth.edu/Research/WFUPC/Primates-at-WFUPC.htm?LangType=1033
 For weeks he worked on the prank. Rehearsing the timing, recording the grunts and screams of the primate.  He had the emphasis on the story telling down to a science. The night they arrived, it was already dark outside. He had everything in place. He told the story about the escaped monkey like he was reciting it from a scrolling news bar off of the TV screen.  The girls shuddered a little at the thought of encountering that monkey and then moved on to other topics. As rehearsed, I took the gals to my bedroom to show them some paintings while Don set up the personally recorded tape of monkey grunts and screams. He projected it like it was coming from the woodpile at end of house.
I cued him to our departure outside by flipping a light switch. We climbed the steps down to the outside patio to enjoy a glass of wine and some pumpkin lit atmosphere at the table. As we climbed down the stair into the darkness, the tape started we trained our ears to the direction of the distressed monkey sounds.  The gals were on alert.  While concentrating on the noises coming from the woods, the big Monkey (aka Don) rushed them from behind, crouching and grunting in full black attire and a realistic monkey mask. They took off up the steps to the house. Watching their escape and noticing there was no hand holding on the way out, I concluded this was everyman for his own. My sister did a frightful jig with a glass of wine before running but spilt nary a drop.
This year will be a doozie for sure. Do you remember your first Halloween outfit?  Mine was Yogi Bear and my brother was Casper and my sister was a baby lamb. I have characters floating around in my head for years out. Let's see... Pocahontas, Amelia Earhart, Linda Blair, Carrie, Grown up Toddler Tiara. I have realized of late that there is a time optimization for being some of these if they need to correspond with my physical attributes, other than my demise. Some costume era's have sadly passed, like nurse Goodbody. The one constant with my costumes would be luxurious tresses (a wig.) You see, as a fine haired friend expressed to me "I was supposed to have hair."  
You just have to love a holiday that doesn't require a trip to Hallmark, gift buying or re-gifting!  Happy Halloween!

Christmas Floorcloth's ~ Order Now~

A new twist to centuries old serviceable art. Floorcloths are quality hand-painted canvas rugs. They originated by early bricoeurs (people who make things out of otherwise useless objects, one description) The first floorcloths originated by these creative souls cutting the sails of ship's that were no longer usable. They primed and painted them and sealed them to use as floor cloths for hard wood or bare dirt floors in the early settlements. Some of these early pieces still exist today in museums and old homes. I believe the earliest one I saw in a magazine was in the home of John and Abigail Adams. Today's floorcloths are not as serviceable as these, but are just as valued and loved as their counterparts as art for their home. These last for decades. I have floorcloths that I created 8 years ago that are in just as good condition today as when they were made. Don't be afraid to walk on them. They are extremely durable. Each of my floorcloths starts with high quality canvas that I prime heavily (at least 5 coats) with quality primers. I then hand-paint the customers requested design onto the floorcloth and prime with 6 coats of quality Sherwin Williams polycrylic. The edged are both glued, sealed and corners mitered. The piece cures for several days and then it is ready to be shipped and enjoyed. Customer's care for floorcloth. Unroll when received. It may take a few days for it to fully unfurl and will become a part of your floor decor shortly after! You may speed it up a bit by placing books on the floorcloth to flatten. It is very easily maintained. Just wipe with a damp cloth to remove spills etc. If it is placed in a high traffic area, you may want to coat it with a polyurethane again in about 5 or 6 years. Otherwise, just enjoy for decades..or more. The creative process, You give me a idea or a design and I am sure I can duplicate it onto canvas. All of the floorcloths photo's in my albums are the end result of someone's design wishes. To view all of my floorcloths on my facebook page, go to https://www.facebook.com/floorcloths

Who Needs Chimney Smoke, Anyway? | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Who Needs Chimney Smoke, Anyway? | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Fall in Charleston ~R.Brabham

October 1st in Charleston. I came in from an evening walk sporting 50 shades of sweat. My head looked like an afro tribute to the Jackson Five band and my legs are blood spattered with mosquito parts. I tossed a dried brown leaf onto the counter, spouting off "There's our leaf change." Still grumbling about allergies to Palmetto trees , I head to the shower. I was missing October in North Carolina. The hillsides were ablaze with fall colors of crimson and orange and gold. The sound of the leaves skipping across the asphalt with a cool breeze whispered warnings oncoming winter. Signs crept up everywhere for Chicken Stews and fall festivals. September nights dipped into the 40's and a few chimneys start smoking. Sweaters and coats are pulled out and summer clothes packed away. You could smell smokehouses curing hams as you ride down the road. A clearer and tamer head prevailed after a shower. I recalled a 7 day week in NC only 3 years ago. We were snowed in solid, no getting out and without power for three of those days. I found my journal and leafed through it. Here are a few excerpts. ~It was 2 p.m. Friday when the power went out. I am sure some of the neighbors left to stay with family that had heat. However, from several nosy neighbor peeks, I noticed that two of the families have decided to rough it out. I took Snowy for an outdoor excursion, realizing quickly that the power will be down for a few days. Tree's are leaning with the weight of snow and there's a lot of cracking and popping going on in the wood line. The temp inside dropped rapidly and Don started a fire in fireplace. I love fires OUTSIDE. But try as I may, I cannot get over the fear of fire burning inside. This is much to Don's chagrin, considering we have 2 cords of hardwood stacked outside. I jump at every pop and crackle in the fireplace. I won't go to bed until the fire is almost completely out. Not that I don't trust Don completely to take care of me. A seasoned fireman could be sitting directly in front of the fireplace with hose in hand and I still wouldn't close my eyes. The house is beginning to warm, or at least the living room. We used the remaining daylight to round up candles, lamps, radio and batteries. I had gathered 6 gallons of water in a large crock in yesterday, just in case. We huddled together in front of the fire and on the couch for hours. After several hours and a few repetitious calls to the power company, we concluded that we were in the position we would stay tonight. I read, Don read, Snowy...well she wasn't handling the situation very well. She kept going to the window to search for the Calvary. (Second Day Without Power) Sunlight streamed into the window this morning, and the power came on!! I lept from the bed and ran for the coffee pot. Before I could get to the kitchen, the power went back off. I put on my heavy wool coat, scarf and ski gloves to take Snowy out. It feels the same outside as inside. I come back in to take a survey of emergency supplies. Down to 3 candles. The temp on my Coca Cola thermostat on frig says 33 degrees. No need to check for food spoilage. I sit in the living room and make a silent vow to remember this day the next time I am in a tropical destination with my toes dug into the sand. There is something alluring about studying a fire. It can be quite mesmerizing. Could it be that I am losing my fear of it? Well, it's 7 p.m. and another night is closing in on us. We pass the time talking about our favorite foods, which at the moment would be seafood in a warm port town with umbrella drinks. We reminisced, read and played Scrabble and Sequence. I am getting sleepy, but the embers are still blazing. I decide that the first two things I will do when the power comes back on is drink a pot of coffee while my shower water is heating. (Third Day Without Power) It was hard to pull myself from under the covers this morning. I got the fire going with newspaper. I called the power company. Possibly today they tell me. My sister calls, we have our morning chat. She is sitting outside in a light housecoat and says it is 70 degrees there in Charleston. Don bundled up and brought some wood in. I took a quick, freezing bird bath. I also found that toothpaste is extremely more refreshing with ice water than warm tap water. I checked the freezer, although most of the food is good and solid, it is getting softer and more thawed and probably wont make it through another day or two. Speaking of not making it, Don lost two of his aquarium fish. Don and Snowy take a nap and I sit in bean bag in front of fire. The power came back on that evening. As we sat in the living room bathed in light and sounds from the TV and heat rolling through the vents, I vowed to never forget those three days and not to grumble when it was hot. I look for the subtle nuances of season change in Charleston. Although Starbucks would like us to believe differently, fall isn't ushered in with the release of Pumpkin Spice Latte's. Let's see... Well the squirrels are busier than me. Acorns crunch on the ground everywhere. Sand is cool to the touch of my bare feet. Although I don't hear the sound of leaves skipping across the yard, the lower palmetto fronds rustle in the wind and the marsh grasses change colors. Oh..and there are fall colors all around me, albeit jerseys, Gamecocks Crimson and Clemson Orange. October 2nd. My daughter in NC calls to tell me that she is freezing. She forgot to check the weather and her toes and hands are frozen. I look out over the pond with my coffee in my flip flops and short sleeved gown and exclaim "Really? It's 75 degrees here this morning."

Literally, A Fork In The Road

Metaphorographer...lol..I am positive I just made up that word, Mic don't get out the dictionary. My definition would be... a photographer that pursues or creates photographic images of metaphors... Hence I've come to a ~Fork in the Road~

Sometimes the Word "No" Is All the Motivation You Need | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Sometimes the Word "No" Is All the Motivation You Need | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Don't Stop The Bus R~Brabham

There's a world empty and void of NO's. A place where I'll succeed because I never knew that I couldn't. But.... I have to run ahead of the crowd or live in the outlands in order not to hear them. A happy toothless woman in the back country of the Appalachians was asked by a photographer who found her shanty cabin one day. Why are you not depressed about your poverty? Her reply "What is poverty?" I think of the thousands of runners and walkers participating in the Cooper River Bridge Run annually, particularly about the first person and the last to cross it. The first knew it made them a winner, the last knew they weren't, but that same finish line was there for the last to cross as well as the first. So what inspires us as individuals? What motivates me? Motivational books, cd's? I've had my share. I could toss them all and never miss them with the exception of the one that inspires me the most, the ~Red Letter Edition~ Obvious flaws indicate that I am still working on that one as well. My favorite motivational speakers have always been self-effacing with a rags to riches story. But Anthony Robbins, seriously bro? Mind control to walk over hot coals? The only time that worked was in the Old Testament and I'm not Shadrach, Meshach or Abednego. When I finish, It's not going to be because I followed a guide book to the letter, I am going to look like I have been in the race. I am going to have scars from hitting every wall all the way ~UP~ and be questioned about the burns that look like I spent some time in Hell, which I will have to admit emphatically "Yes" to. Yet, painfully so. My predictable motivator is ~NO~ I just refuse to get off the bus early. On December 1, 1955, in Montgomery, Alabama, Rosa Parks refused to obey bus driver James F. Blake's order that she give up her seat in the colored section to a white passenger, after the white section was filled. I believe there is another controversial section on that bus, it's the pull cord, the stop button that tells the driver to pull over. The button that makes you get off the bus too early, because someone told you that you couldn't get to your destination from there. If you let them, every person who says you can't is your new bus driver. The best things that have ever happened to me have been because of a "NO." And, my biggest regrets in life have been because I pulled that bus cord early. I saw a quote this week on social media and was amazed at how many "Likes" it had. It went like this "I'd rather regret the things I did, than the things that I haven't done." Really? I'm all about living out loud, but their regrets must have been akin to getting a Big Mac instead of a pack of sliced apples at Mc D's. My regrets are HUGE! I don't want anymore. Like I said, follow the leader. Here's a life example of what happens when a NO becomes a YES. My granny was in the hospital. Bad heart. The year, 1977. I dolled up my little 2 1/2 month old daughter to go meet her great granny. It was late when I got to the hospital. I missed visiting hours by ten minutes and was turned down at the nurses station. The nurse doing her job. "No Maam...you can't visit now. You will have to come back tomorrow." I pleaded "But, I can't come back tomorrow, I know it's past time, I promise I won't be but a minute" She just shook her head no. In exasperation, I went the down the wrong hall, following a different exit sign. I passed a long hall that had the room numbers that included the one my granny was on. I eventually found another set of elevators. The doors opened and I pushed the button for ground floor. Which was where my heart was at the moment. I got to the bottom floor and looked at my sweet little baby's face grinning up at me. I unzipped my short little coat, slipped her inside. I played peek a boo with her for a minute and then hit the elevator button for the floor I just left. I got off that floor and scurried down the hall with my baby zipped up in my coat. I reached her room safely out of view of the nurses station. I opened the door quietly. The lights were off except for a dimly lit bathroom light, Granny was in her silky jammies. She was easing back onto her bed. Her eyes got so wide when she saw me. I pushed my fingers to my lips and unzipped my jacket. I pulled my baby out and sat on the bed by her. We ooohhhed and ahhhed over her for minutes and then babies do what they do, they giggle, they laugh, they make noises. A nurse cracks open the door, she see's us and my granny holds a finger up in warning. The nurse holds up three warning fingers back at her and mouth's, three minutes. We kiss and hug and I leave. I never saw my granny again. She left for Davis, NC shortly after. She died four months later Feb, 26th 1978. No regrets. "Somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying. Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day. Do it! I say. Whatever you want to do, do it now! There are only so many tomorrows." Pope Paul VI, born on September 26, 1897