It has been a long and dreary period of blogging silence from The Unkindness, but we are happy to announce our return to composing macabre musings for you sorry lot. Our extended absence was due to an unfortunate excess of the banal requirements of everyday life coupled with personal darkness and strife. In short: life happened, and it was hard, so blogging had to take a backseat.
During this extended sabbatical we were able to discuss our methods going forward, and we have two major improvements to share with you: shorter posts and more regular posts. I came to the realization long ago that my cohorts and I can be a touch long-winded. While this may be appropriate for some venues, for this one it is not. However, if we ever have a subject we are just DYING to prattle on about at length, we’ll offer a shorter summary to start.
Blah blah blah *GET TO THE GOOD STUFF*
Well then...part of our little vacation involved The Reverend and I getting acquainted with our new town of residence, and what better city to become host to our wickedness than historic Salem, Massachusetts? We’re delighted to become part of a community where spookiness is a way of life, tolerance is practically mandated by the mayor, and rich history combines with modern convenience.
There is no lack of museums, tours, shops, eateries, and events to satisfy both visitors and long-term residents. We’ll be developing reviews and profiles of some of our favorite places as well as delving deeper into Salem’s history for a look into how this famous village has transformed in its nearly 400 years. Let us know if you have any requests or if you’re planning a trip. We’re full of suggestions!
In closing, today is “Blue Monday” - historically the most depressing day of the year, and we’re here to briefly indulge your dark thoughts with a spot of Poe:
By Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Ok, sulking is over. Get up and go do something you love.