The plot, what little there is of one, is very Lovecraftian - endless flight through a seaside town, followers of an obscure sect pursuing you even in your sleep, locked up safe in your motel. But there's an overriding voice that is reminiscent of Shirley Jackson - events taking on intimate, sinister undertones that echo and echo through claustrophobic domesticity just starting to sprawl out into a post-war infinity.
Here, we arrive at that same gas station twenty some odd…
So...this may sound like midlife crisis crazy talk, but I've had it with here/where my life is at right now, and so I've come to a very important decision on where my journey is taking me:
Grovers Bend, Kansas.
I am serious. It looks amazing. I want E.T's mom to be my mom. I wouldn't even mind having to live on a farm because I would have an awkward Billy Zane to tell me about what life is like in…
I'm sorry but who the fuck doesn't like sunflowers??
It's like a millennial wrote this or something, like 'oh sunflowers are so misunderstood' and not plastered on every piece of clothing in the Bon Marche when I was in junior high
OK I admit: I rarely look things up on the Wikipedia (or imbd which honestly I do not prefer unless I need to know who played literally everyone, which sometimes I do, but I try and avoid it due to mild dyslexia where I cannot say imdb or sp3ll it apparently) so i just now found out Catherine o hara is Malicious!!!!!
But actually the reason I am on here at all is because it just struck me how: deep…
Twirling around and around in a pretty white dress with strawberry ice cream at the beach is exactly how i want to finally lose all touch with reality
Ok, everyone just calm down. All we need to do is find the one person in this New England fishing town who owns a slicker.
![nathaxnne [hiatus: blast injury]](https://a.ltrbxd.com/resized/avatar/upload/1/9/5/2/4/3/shard/avtr-0-80-0-80-crop.jpg?v=2d9f35eba8){kind=small}
