Justin Holliday
Our Monsters, Ourselves
Cover Art: Daniel Spoerri, Schussrichtungsstab from Criminal Investigations (Die Morduntersuchung). 1971-72. Screenprint on canvas. MOMA.
Our Monsters, Ourselves
I teach monsters;
or rather, I assign readings about them. Most students get into it, see the movies are not just mindless entertainment, that scenes of stalking, stabbing, and retribution are intellectual and visceral, tearing at both brain and gut. They learn how to re-stitch primordial fears into discourse. The vampire is not just a vampire. The zombie is not just a zombie. Stephen King wrote that horror movies satisfy a craving, a puritanical need to see right and wrong divided, to watch others burn. As their corpses lay on the ground, we feel vindicated: they deserved it for bullying, lying, deviating from civilized morality, from us. To survive, follow the rules: no drugs no alcohol no premarital sex no promises of return. I always ask, Haven’t you watched Scream? Most students are willing to learn how to look past rotting flesh and see the only monsters are us. We destroy each other every day, justifying the atavistic need within to strike a match and believe this is a trial, where we wait until the monster is vanquished to ask if the executioner could become the executed. |
Justin Holliday is an English lecturer and poet. His work has appeared in Occulum, Impossible Archetype, Queen Mob's Teahouse, and elsewhere.
past, Frances Donovan next, Babo Kamel