A man on the highway. A waitress in an all night diner. A severed finger in the french fries. As a kid in the mid 80’s, I saw every horror movie. We had all the channels, even back then, because my uncle hacked the cable box. While the grownups played cards upstairs, I’d be downstairs alone in the glow of the television, watching dreamlike sequences of images. Fragments of nightmares that were primordial, primal. I saw a red train moving through a red landscape. A man ran a knife down the center of his face, peeled it apart and revealed the head of a snake. Sex and slaughter were at the bloody heart of these narratives. In this world, joy was naive, innocence had to be snuffed out, and all would be off balance until some Jason character made it right. I’ve always been waiting for a savior.