I could probably publish a small novel on the completely innocuous things that now vibrate with a sinister aura to me thanks to legendary filmmaker (and painter, musician, animator, photographer, carpenter, spokesperson for Transcendental Meditation) David Lynch. No really, I could. Heretofore, many of these everyday doohickeys and thingamajigs were no more threatening than Pepé Le Pew making it with Penelope Pussycat but in Lynch's batshit crazy hands, something terrifying creeps in, creeps through the everyday facade of normalcy. I imagine that now that I have stumbled through Lynch's looking glass, there will forever be hinted terrors behind the commonest shapes and objects he has fixed his surrealist's eye on. I also imagine that I will be covering these many ridiculous fears he has sown in my mind permanently, quite regularly here at The October Country. Because honestly, no filmmaker has unnerved me as consistently as Lynch has. So for today's sojourn into the world of personal and irrational fears, I'm going straight to the top of the list. The mother of all achievements as far as Mr. Lynch's bizarre, scary creations are concerned: the demonic, disturbing, what-the-fuck entity known as BOB (Frank Silva) from television's Twin Peaks and it's attendant incarnation, the owl (fittingly associated with sorcery and evil throughout history).
Hence:
The daemonophobia...
...that begot the oclophobia (and future Salem album cover)....
...that resulted in a fear of finding this at the foot of my bed one day:
Conclusion, thank you for many a sleepless, harrowing nights alone in bed Mr. Lynch and for making those deep, dark woods just a little bit blacker.
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