I promise

not to dwell

on why I hate

Halloween.

I will not 

comment

on the 

overconsumption,

glorified

sluttiness

(the only

memorable

costumes),

the adult

takeover

of kid 

time,

excessive waste—

especially plastic—

oh don’t get me 

started!

It’s supposed

to be fun!

Silly!

Autumnal festivity!

A treat 

when everything

feels like 

a trick.

A celebration

of night

and owning

it.

We see 

monsters

everyday

wearing masks

of normalcy.

The literary 

monsters

who

for decades

symbolized

Halloween

were tortured

by their liminal

lives,

possessed 

by cruelty,

but part

human,

wrestling

with destructive

impulses.

Iconic

images

made immortal

by Lon Chaney, Jr.,

Boris Karloff,

Bella Lugosi,

Elsa Lanchester

have become

shorthand

for Halloween

despite 

iterations

over 

generations.

There is a 

secular

sacredness

to this night—

a hallow eve.

The crazy

looking

characters

of Halloween

and all the

accompanying 

excess

is nothing

next 

to the

scary stuff—

the vile 

distortions

and evil

happening

each day.