I recently saw a post, I believe it was in a Facebook horror group, about a movie from 2005 called Tideland. I had never before heard of this movie, but the post intrigued me to the point where I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it for the past month or so. I would occasionally Google trailers, and reviews, and it got to the point where I was so weirdly hyperfixated on it that I knew I would have to experience it for myself, despite not really being able to pin down exactly what sort of movie it was. It seemed like some kind of horrific fairytale fever dream, and something about it just really spoke to me. Thankfully, it is currently available on Tubi, so I was recently able to watch it for free. I’m going to start this off by saying, while I understand that he is influential, I am not familiar with much of Terry Gilliam’s work. I have specific tastes in media, and the only other movie I’ve seen of his, at least as far as I can tell, is The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, ...
I went for a walk tonight. My first in a long time. The last walk I went on, there were still pumpkins out there. Many of them lined up for disposal, some even sitting near garbage cans, awaiting their fate. I wished I could have saved them all. It's always strange to go on walks when I haven't in awhile. The timing is interesting. Usually, as the last pumpkins left out in the world rot, it becomes too cold to go out again until March arrives. An interesting cycle; a strange coincidence. In my mind's eye, I can see what once was. And as I walk, I feel like I am in some dream state version of my neighborhood. Like when you dream of your home, but it's not quite your home. An extra hallway, a missing window, a gateway to something that isn't really there, or nothingness where there should be something. It's real, but it isn't. It's familiar, but it's foreign. I think of the movie Skinamarink, where the children ask, 'Where did it go?' as the...