protean depravity

There are spoilers all over in this text! I LOVE the metro, subway, UBahn, underground, metro, métro, metró, metroul, whatever you call it. As long as a city has underground trains and a plan to go with it, I can find my way around and feel safe too. It takes me where I want to go, it shields me from the weather, it provides me a space to (hopefully) sit down and read my book... I feel like getting out that door and running to the next UBahn station just writing this, it's just extremely cozy down there. But I hear there are people who don't share my enthusiasm, especially the dark tunnels and their supposed secrets animating the darker corners of their imagination - notably Clive Barker... whose iconic 1984 short story collection Books of Blood Volumes 1-3 even opens (as far as I remember) with a novelette/short story set in the New York City underground: The Midnight Meat Train. The striking story worthy of the title of the collection revolves around not one, but two protag

So far, my year is a lot busier than the last couple of years, but luckily there was no need to worry about the Fantasy Film Fest being cancelled due to pandemic this time. Another thing was different too - the movie theater! The FFF took place in the Zoo Palast which, with super comfortable chairs and lots of space between the rows is one of the luxurious movie theaters in Berlin. Apparently the organizers decided to offer their audience that luxury this year as well as numbered seating (To be honest I kind of like the "no numbered seats" tradition in festivals with everybody lining up in front of the door like marathon runners waiting for the start signal and as soon as the doors open running in to catch a good spot. It's so fun to contemplate, especially for me, I like to sit on the sidelines.). In the first three days that I missed, I missed a few films I really wanted to see, mainly Slotherhouse , about a sloth gone murderous, which, I heard, is supposed to be fantas

“In poetry, the era of the blond, rosy cheeked, perfect Petrarchan beauty is over now,” shouts Herr Professor Prissnitz* pointing his finger to blond, rosy cheeked, perfect Michaela* whose leisurely gum-chewing provides a sharp contrast to the zest and energy with which our literature professor delivers his lecture. While she hides her surprise behind an arrogant smirk which in turn hides behind arduous and rhythmic jaw motion, he ups his voice a note and nearly screams “It's YOUR time now!” To my sheer dread and terror he turns that finger to me, while I, pathologically introverted and socially awkward, quickly bury my head in the colossal Norton Anthology of English Literature Seventh Edition/Volume One in front of me, at the same time trying to control the black clouds of anxiety obscuring my vision and to regulate my breathing and pulse by taking slow, deep breaths. The open page before me shows William Shakespeare's Sonnet 130 , the infamous sonnet in which he courageously

Hey everyone! I'm back, my friends - I'm tired, and have a lot to process, and a lot of stories to tell, and a lot of sleeping to do, but I'm finally and a little belatedly back at home and will slowly catch up with the blog and my books and movies. Before I do, though, I will focus on the Fantasy Film Fest and try to see as many of the movies as I can and my budget allows because after almost a month of traveling, I'm quite broke. Which is OK, it was worth it. So here are the short reviews that I already more or less reviewed on goodreads, maybe just a little modified. I'm publishing them here too for those who are not on GR, but there are a few longer reviews on the way too. I hope you had a good time too in the meantime and hope you enjoy!

 Greetings from Ulthar Istanbul!