Ghost Upon the Floor

 

 Life has been a lot for this Ghost this year, even more than last. I am going to be doing my best to write everyday; even if it is just a few shorts words, or a photo, about where the Ghost is in October, and what his spirit is out there doing. 

 So, today. The first day of our month. I saw this, admittedly spotted, leaf, that is a gorgeous shade of red. And later I watched 1931's "Frankenstein" and, as always, fell in love with those all black and white monstrous voices and images. As always, James Whale's production design took me in, and didn't let go for it's nearly one hour and ten minutes run time. 

 

Happy October, to all you ghouls out there. 

 

 This October night, something different. Now, is the time when ghosts are present. We have some new ghosts being wrought across the floor. The ghost of Halloweens yet to come? What a ghost, what a trio of ghosts, indeed. 

 Boo! 

 

 

 Tonight’s film was one I have found myself returning to most years in early October, for my witchy fix: “Practical Magic.” 

 To me, this film will always be perfectly immortal. The right amount of humor, horror, romance, schmaltz, with an incredible heart. The cast is, of course, amazing. Sandra Bullock, Nicole Kidman, Dianne Weist and Stockard Channing (who have quite a few Oscars between them) are incredible. As well as the little girls who play Sally’s daughters; they are incredible little actors.

 I believe, for the first time, last night I noticed that the woman from the opening of the film when Sally and Gillian are children, wanting the love spell with the pigeon, comes back at the end as a part of the phone tree coven.

 I will also eternally plug what is now a series of books that Alice Hoffman has now written. While the first novel this film is based on is incredible, the follow ups manage to be even more meaningful; with “The Rules of Magic” being perhaps my favorite, the origin stories of the aunts Franny and Jet. If you love this movie and haven’t read them, why are you reading my blog? Go read those, instead.

 Before the film, I found myself in the lower gorge of Niagara Falls for my brother’s wedding. A beautiful place in the fall.

 

  

 Every October, I return to and linger a long while in Sleepy Hollow. The town, in reality and fiction and folklore, embodies the spirits of October in more ways than there are headstones in the church yard. Washington Irving’s story is, quite possibly, the most perfect ghost story. The mystery, the doubt, the fear, the urban legends— it is so perfectly the stuff of ghosts. 

 Tonight I went to put on Robert Van Nutt’s animated story book version of the tale, narrated by Glenn Close, which is such a perfect, and book accurate, adaptation. In the process, I found and rented Hobey Ford’s “Ichabod: Sketches from Sleepy Hollow,” which while a very short short, was highly entertaining and worth the one dollar and ninety-nine cents.

 I still watched the Van Nutt version, after. The slowly moving illustrations are the perfect, nostalgia-tinged way to experience the story, in as close a way to reading the text can be without reading the text. 

  

 And run there. And take photographs. And, sometimes, I just read under a tree. I have a favorite tree. 

 This afternoon I went to read there, but ended up taking my camera (and phone) and taking countless photos, too. The ones here are all from my phone.

 This area of the cemetery is one of my favorites. One of the oldest areas on the oldest grounds, which was also used as a cemetery before the cemetery was officially incorporated. Here, in the fading afternoon light, the world, and even October, stands still. Every now and then a leaf will fall to the ground. If you’re listening, you can just hear it.   

 

 Tonight, I kept going with the Universal Monsters. You can’t beat them. “The Bride of Frankenstein” truly is one of the greatest film sequels of all time. The continuation of the story is seamless (though there is some reworking of the original “Frankenstein’s” ending), and the horror, the humor, emotion, the creepy atmosphere, even the acting and characters— all feel elevated. Even the new characters like Dr. Pretorious and Minnie feel both elevated and like they have been there all along.

 Karloff’s performance is perhaps a huge reason for this. No doubt, more time to live within the character gave him more depth, but the addition of being able to talk some of his lines gave Boris the opportunity to add layers to the character that seem the most true connection to Shelley’s original novel, where our Monster (?) famously speaks eloquently and waxes philosophical. 

 Tonight there was some rain, to break the humidity, and the brightening leaves feel more like the season. 

  

   I write this from my desk overlooking a yard full of trees. Leaves to my left, leaves to my right, leaves everywhere I look are starting to blaze. Deep red, yellow, orange. And it is just under 80 degrees. Which does not seem right, to this Ghost, at all. 

 Yesterday morning I ran in the fog. The mysteries of the earth really seem to hover over creation when the fog comes, and, somehow, it was just what we needed here to feel autumn's warm, cooling embrace. The world hides in the fog, and what is hidden always feels like such a celebration of Halloween. 

 

At the Ghost's haunted house, interior Halloween decorating remains on hold for a few days, as life has thrown us new furniture and such we are in the process of assimilating. Nevertheless. October carries on, and I have been putting up what I can. 

 

Again last night, about midnight, I poured myself some apple cider in a wine glass-- why not?-- and followed up "Frankenstein" with Todd Browning's 1931 undead classic, "Dracula." The sets. The ghostly nature of it all, looking so far back into the past; somehow, this film gets better each year, and each time I watch it. Toward the final half of its short running time, the day began to catch up with me, and I started to fall asleep. Bela, his Count Dracula, Mina and Renfield and Van Helsing and Jonathan Harker, somehow, all showed up in my dreams. "Dracula" is such a dreamlike film, falling asleep to it, which is something I have done before, seems like a particular type of black magic. When I woke, Van Helsing was standing above the Count's coffin with a stake; I rewound the DVD and watched the last half in its entiriety, before retiring, dark and dreary, to my bed. 

 Sadly, I did not dream of vampires. That I remember.