I had no idea Google had a repository of all its special-occasion logos.
Last time I visited my folks, on my drive between their place up around Canton, GA, and the Atlanta airport, I ran across this strange castle-like house, tucked in the midst of semi-rural suburbs.
I’m dying to know what the heck this thing is.
It appears to have a moat around it, because in the front there’s a railing that looks like it goes into a pool (from my vantage point outside the gate, it was hard to tell).
Out back, it has a weird little smaller castle house like a pool house, maybe? And some creepy cartoonish character sculptures.
It must not be a very new house, because it has a gigantic TV antenna sprouting from one of the conical roofs. (I forgot the word for those things.)
There are a few more pics in the flickr stream, linked from the picture.
(Edit: See the new info on the house in this post)
South Street in Philly had a day of the dead parade on Sunday. It was small but charming. This picture was actually in a shop window, but there are a couple of shots of the skeleton puppets in the parade on my flickr stream.
Unfortunately my real camera broke, so all I could get were these fuzzy phone-cam shots.
This is just grand: The Haunted Mansion – Secrets
An in-depth history and explanation of the Disney Haunted Mansion.
As a kid, I used to have some of the most delightful nightmares about this attraction. And in my child dreamscape I’d sometimes just have happy dreams of Disney in general, the Haunted Mansion was second only to the (in my dreams, hyperbolically fantastic) Magic Shop for causing fireworks in my brains.
Nearing Halloween, you really don’t get any more Halloweeny than this.
Having gazed in wonderment down into the â€˜bellsâ€™ where countless bones were stacked one upon the other, I began to appreciate that every skull represented a person; a life so different from my own, yet connected in many other respects not least because I too would one day be reduced to these ghostly remains, a forgotten memory from futureâ€™s history. Often plagued by existentialist thoughts, I think such a visit did more good than harm.
The last episode was one of the most heartbreaking and tender things I’ve ever seen.
Here, HBO has actual obituaries … well, don’t go looking if you haven’t seen the episode yet. But when I ran across them just now, I gasped.
It’s miraculous, when you can feel so close to fictional characters. I’m not a sap for stuff like this, really. But Alan Ball is a bloody genius.
No, more than that. It’s not just intelligence that made this show work. It was courage to map the real contours of human hearts.
Bah. That sounds cheesy. But I don’t care.
David Milch is my new hero. His incredible work on Deadwood is one of the great works of (literary? dramatic? cinematic?) art in the 21st century. And I’m not one who is normally given to such statements. Honestly, I think that extremely well-made “series” such as Six Feet Under and Sopranos that have a coherent long-term story arc over four or five years are *the* new great art form that we’ll look back on in 10 or 20 years and say “damn the 90’s and 2000’s were the golden age of that.”
Anyway, Milch is amazing. Anybody who has heard an interview with him or seen the commentaries on the Deadwood DVD’s has to either be a stone idiot or completely enthralled with the guy.
In this interview I found from 2002, I discover that he studied under Robert Penn Warren, managed to kick a heroin addiction, and was an even bigger part of the best years of NYPD Blue than I realized.
Here’s a link, and a quote I found awfully helpful in my own striving to make something literary.
I donâ€™t linger a lot in self-delusory exercises in control â€“ donâ€™t describe too much or even have to have an objective idea of what a scene is about. My only responsibility to an active imagination is to submit myself to a state of being where characters other than I move around and I try to serve that process. I just get to that â€“ I donâ€™t plan scenes. I donâ€™t outline. I feel my way along because I have come to believe everything you believe about writing instead of writing is bullshit. It doesnâ€™t apply. You can make an outline but an outline is not going to work because it doesnâ€™t apply to what is actually written. I am content to work in uncertainty much more than I used to be â€“ content to not know where I am going.