A haunted house but it's two weeks late
We sure know how to put the "cozy" in "cozy horror" over here at Château Curiosity, especially if your idea of a nightmare involves replaying a video of your totally foreseeable mistakes over and over again! But really, what's more comfy-spooky than some extra-tall striped wool socks? In my latest offering, I finally show off what the 3D printed flatbed machine can do on a real project, and I explore a hybrid flat-to-circular approach to sock knitting.
Like many of you1, I'm sure, I've found the past couple of weeks to be... draining, to put it mildly. Terrifying, infuriating, crushing. On one hand it seems absurd to be sharing my silly little bullshit when it feels like all the reality has been sucked out of the room; but on the other hand, focusing on chipping away at a creative goal has made it possible to get from one end of the day to the other, something within my sphere of control that I hope might serve as a welcome cognitive break for someone else.
Like I say in the voiceover, I really did "queue up a few seasons of Buffy" while I was working on this. Some things about the series haven't aged well, of course, notably its creator's reputation, but damn if a few of those themes don't resonate right now. And so, I would like to leave you with a haunting song written by Jenny Owen Youngs back in late 2016 for the Buffering the Vampire Slayer podcast: sung from Buffy's point-of-view, the song is about sloshing through trauma and grief and despair, to come to terms with one's role in standing against the forces of darkness when things look bleakest.2
Thank you all for being here. Just keep fighting.
xoxo Sparks
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If this isn't you and you're surprised I'm upset... I... I really don't know what to tell you, man. Did you not notice, like, my entire vibe? Do I need to start dyeing my queer little haircut purple again? ↩
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Back when I was an aerialist, pre-pandemic, I had plans to choreograph a lyra act to this song, so I had it on loop, and I still can't get through it without crying. I can't do a single pull-up these days, let alone haul my ass over a metal hoop, but it might be time to mask up, hit the gym, and get in slaying condition again. ↩