Halloween

I was jonesing for trick-or-treaters, so Kathy and Gerard invited me over to play Candy Lady last night. It was fun!

I hadn’t had a really good Halloween since I left California – too many serial killers lurking around the Cement Bungalow where I lived in rural squalor in Tompkins County while stewarding RTT through high school; I can’t remember whether there were trick-or-treaters on Lawn Guyland, and of course, my high-functioning autistic Pentecostal landlady last year thought Halloween is the Devil’s holiday.

Afterwards I repaired to the annual Halloween Cemetery Stroll at the Hyde Park St. James Episcopal Church where many interesting people are buried, including this gentleman who was a famous roué in his day and eventually married the daughter of Hetty Green, known during the Gilded Age as “The Witch of Wall Street,” but, of course, completely forgotten today. Why doesn’t Martin Scorsese make a movie about her?

I’m still braindead.

The maple tree outside my window is just magnificent: