Doktor Leech and Elsa L. can’t wait to open their latest 3-D portrait from Theatre Bizarre 2016 made by the Great Fredini of Scan-a-rama fame. This unboxing episode includes another two-person full body scan as well as a 3-D bust of the couple. Join them as they get their first peek at the figurines, reminisce about their Theatre Bizarre adventures, and plan future poses. What color will next year’s figures be?
Is there anything quite as magical as fire? That smell, the flare of color, the flash of heat?
Fire, fire, everywhere at Theatre Bizarre, that wonderful annual masquerade at the Masonic Theatre, Detroit Michigan. The Doktor captured just a few of the fire performances that seemed to pop up wherever we turned.
My only disappointment from the 2015 Theatre Bizarre was that at this fete exhorting us to “Ride the Goat,” there was no appearance by the Baphomet statue so recently flaunted by the local Satanists. It’s probably for the best. I suspect pious devil-worship would have paled in comparison to the joyous revelries and raucous naughtiness that Theatre Bizarre is known for. You know the drill: Theatre Bizarre has come a long way from that notorious renegade party it once was and for some folks, there ain’t nothing quite as delicious as nostalgia for auld lang syne. For my money, Dunivant’s crazy circus has hit its stride in the Masonic Temple. Elsa and I were on-site for a good eight hours last night which means our ticket gave us great value for money.
Hold the goat, Theatre Bizarre 2015, for me, was really the Year of the Performer. I was able to look past the luridly lovely decorations and outrageous costumes long enough to pay attention to the remarkable calibre of the events occurring on the many stages. I know I mocked it a couple years ago when placards appeared at the venues listing the acts. I felt the glory was precisely in NOT knowing what would be seen. I repent and recant. I only wish I knew the names of more of the itinerant mimes, clowns and fireworkers. May they be recognized at least by descriptions of their work.
All Packed up and Ready to Fork: The show starts even outside Masonic, which is fortunate because the wait is sometimes lengthy. This year there were two entrances which minimized the time Elsa and I spent in the cold… but we were there long enough to catch a Theatre Bizarre regular, one of many performers whose name I don’t know. His routine is classic and well honed. This mime struggles with a suitcase that possesses a mind of its own, simple fare that requires great control and nuance because there is little flash to distract. More crowd-pleasing, perhaps, is his sword-swallowing but what he does when he combines a fork and his nose is priceless.
The evening heats up with fire dancing contortionists.
Quest for Fire: I was also fortunate to be in the right places to witness the work of a lithe blonde fire-dancer. She twirled a flame-tipped baton and swirled a fiery circle in the Main Foyer and on at least one of the small table-sized stages that dot Masonic. But when she and another dancer parted the revelers in the Fountain Ballroom, sometime after midnight, that’s when I really took notice. The routine was a spirited tug-of-war / pas de deux of sorts where the pair struggled to possess a flaming bauble. With contortions and gymnastic flair, the two gleefully contested, wrestled and writhed… and never even singed the awestruck crowd. This is the kind of unexpected wonderment I’ve come to expect from Theatre Bizarre.
Love the gloveElsa and I started the evening in the Dirty Devil’s Burlesque, since we know the room crowds up early. A patron could spend the entire evening watching these beauties and get a great introduction to the state of the burlesque art. Dahlia Fatale and Dangrrr Doll were remarkable for the fluid physicality of their acts but I was glad to finally see Lou Lou Roxy, a Las Vegas performer who has recently relocated to Detroit. I believe I could watch her work out of her gloves for quite a contented eternity.
We drifted and indulged and found ourselves in the first floor Ballroom early enough to secure a table for several of the signature performances. There are several traditions at Theatre Bizarre, set pieces repeated and revered to the point of becoming rituals. The Devil’s Tightrope is one routine that, while not precisely my taste, is a remarkable, must-see stunt. It features BOTH kinds of mischief, both clowns and devils. A rope is suspended between hooks sunk into the flesh of two strong men, lit on fire before a hapless clown is forced at knife-point to walk across that perilous line. Don’t try it at home.
One of Theatre Bizarre’s recurring cast is “The Doll,” whose joyous zeal really epitomizes the weird fun of the affair. We spotted her as usual all around the festivities, sometimes atop stilts and brandishing a massive hammer, sometimes just cuddling a doll. When she appeared onstage in “The Doll and the Devil,” I feared that her innocent joie de vivre would be besmirched by that compellingly androgynous faun who attempted to seduce her. Ha! I worried in vain. The Doll was triumphant and the Devil got his comeuppance in the end, quite literally.
“The Clown’s Surprise” featured two more of the Theatre Bizarre regulars, a lanky clown and a remarkably acrobatic devil girl. Both performers pop up all around the show, accosting customers and performing bits, and Elsa and I have thrilled to their talents, year after year, but it was fun to finally see an act where both could play off each other’s strengths.
Then there were the big name acts who deserve their notoriety; Ray Gunn, Roxi D’lite, Red Rum… It’s a privilege to say I’ve seen them perform.
There was ice cream and dancing, popcorn and short-attention span porn movies, in addition to other naughtiness best left unmentioned. Theatre Bizarre is an event ruled by serendipity, happy accidents of being in the right place at precisely the right time. These blessings more than compensate for the moments found trapped somewhere, surrounded by far too many people, pushing along in line for some attraction. Elsa and I have learned to take the long view, to relax and look around because at Theatre Bizarre, something amazing is happening just about everywhere.
The Theatre Bizarre Gala for 2015 is but a pleasant memory. Elsa and I know to arrive early to prolong the night. As usual, clowns, mimes and other shenanigans entertained us while we waited in line. This poor clown had an absurdly heavy suitcase apparently with a mind of its own.
Clowning around on the steps of Masonic, waiting for Theatre Bizarre Gala 2015Both kinds of entertainment: Clowns AND Mimes.The evening heats up with fire dancing contortionists.Alley-oop!No, no, NO! Forks go in your MOUTH!Don’t feed the Devil Girl… though it looks like she might just take a bite if you get too closeA contact juggler with his mesmerizing crystal balls
Undead bellhops prepare an elevator to Hell…or to the OdditoriumThe evening heats up with fire dancing contortionists.Even the undead bellhops were snapping photos
Two headsDavid J of Bauhaus performed memorable, Big Band version of “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”Can there really be too many photos of Roxi?Roxi Delite, onstage in all her luminous glory
Roxi Delite prepares to Ride the Goat.
I’m told each piece of candy corn is laced with LSD
The Doktor and I have acquired quite a shelf of memorabilia from Theatre Bizarre, and my most treasured item is a 3-D souvenir portrait we had done at the 2014 Gala. True, the Doktor may have been temporarily more excited by the Saunders Bumpy Cake and he strutted like a peacock when he (finally) won a Zombo doll at the Feats of Skill, but a couple weeks later, when we received this hand-sized statue, we both were able to recall the glories of that special evening all over again. Many thanks to the Great Fredini who brought his Scan-a-Rama rig all the way from Coney Island to capture these memories.
The statue itself is bright red and made from hard plastic, roughly 5 inches tall and perfectly captures the weird get-up that the Doktor and I assumed for the evening. Honestly the scan is quite remarkable. The Doktor and I are fans of 3-D printing and in fact have been scanned previously using various homebuilt rigs, but never in full regalia. Fredini’s statuette captured the nuances of our costume. It recalled for me the childhood glee of those coin-operated, wax-model machines that we popular in the 60’s. (The Henry Ford Museum has a half dozen working examples BTW.) Our statue is a personalized remembrance of that delightful evening.
The scanning process was a particularly interesting experience. The Doktor and I stood on a rotating platform that slowly moved while Fredini’s fabulous contraption scanned us. Sorry, no lasers, no tingling magnetic rays. We had carefully worked out a pose –the Doktor’s adoration and my bemused benediction– but found it rather a challenge to keep from laughing… and to stay still after partaking of the Gala’s open bar.
This is pure magic, of course, but not rocket science. A dedicated hobbyist could assemble similar equipment using off the shelf components. In fact, Fredini has even shared the plans for his rig publicly. The artistry comes in when it comes time to print the 3-D scan. Our printed statues are smooth, entirely lacking the jaggies of low-resolution, hobbyist-grade 3-D printers. The details are soft but expressive. (How did the Doktor convince me to wear a mask with such a big nose?) Fredini is using figures like these to populate a scale model of the entire Luna Park amusement park at its heyday.
At its core, Theatre Bizarre is a glorious expression of weird ingenuity, from its genesis as a renegade backyard amusement park to its full-flower at the Greatest Masquerade on Earth. It seemed appropriate on a couple levels that the Great Fredini of Coney Island fame was on hand at Theatre Bizarre 2014 to create 3-D portraits of attendees. Amusement parks were originally somewhat licentious excursions for young lovers to indulge in exotic fantasies and extravegant treats. Is there a better description of Theatre Bizarre? And what could be a more fantastic souvenir from that fabulous night than a 3-D statue of my lover and me?
Who knows what wonders will appear at this year’s Theatre Bizarre! We can hardly wait to find out.
We got a SURPISE in Columbus… The Impy chills in the Torpedo Room, Columbus
When Elsa and I traveled to Columbus to award Jason Tostevin this year’s Impy, we weren’t prepared for our reception. The Impy recognizes cinematic achievement in short horror films produced in Midwest, but the rules somewhat jokingly note “with the possible exception of Ohio.” The genuine Buckeye hospitality we were shown made us seriously consider revising that proviso. Honestly. What could (nearly) prompt a change of heart in this second-generation Wolverine? In addition to his artistic skill, Jason Tostevin, producer of “I Owe You” and mastermind of “Hands Off Productions,” also throws a great party.
We convened at the Gateway Film Center, an impressive cinema destination in the heart of Columbus, adjacent to the Ohio State University campus. For this celebration, Tostevin gathered some of the principal talent involved in making “I Owe You” such a dark gem.
Elsa happily reports that actor Brian Spangler (who played “Cam”) is as handsome in real life as he is on-screen. She was also not surprised that he fronts a band (Barefoot Swagger.) Brian has also appeared in several previous Hands Off productions, including twisted romantic horror tale “Til Death (2013)” and “Help Wanted” which was produced for the 2013 Columbus 48-hour Film Festival.
(View Brian’s other IMDB credits here.)
I was particularly pleased to meet Randall Greenland whose script provided a tight narrative cohesion. Many short films have a keen visual style and some even feature great acting but Randall’s economical and expressive script pushed “I Owe You” to the winner’s circle. Randall is also a long-time member of the team and has provided many scripts for Hands Off Productions. (View his IMDB credits here.)
Tostevin has assembled a team of folks who enjoy each other’s company and that sense of easy collaboration comes through in their films.
Randall Greenland, Jason Tostevin (with Impy), Brian Spangler and Trista Caruso
Jason has also found creative ways to work with other independent filmmakers. While taking his films to festivals, Tostevin encountered many remarkable short films that he knew wouldn’t get screened widely due to their brief running times. Tostevin worked with other award-winning directors to collect seven admirable films in “Seven Hells (2014)” a feature length anthology that premiered at the Gateway Film Center in the fall of 2014. Check out a teaser for Seven Hells here. Included in this collection is his own piece “‘Til Death,” a comedy-horror short about the unintended morning-after consequences that four guys discover after killing their partners. “Til Death” has won over 100 awards in various festivals, making it perhaps the most winning-est short in Ohio film history. Check out the “Til Death” listing at IMDB here. “Seven Hells” was such a success that Tostevin plans another anthology film, this one collecting various romantic-horror films suited particularly well for Valentine’s Day. I like a guy who finds ways to spread horror all around the calendar.
The Torpedo Room, inside the Gateway Film Center, Columbus, Ohio
Jason chose the perfect location for this award celebration, namely The Torpedo Room, a steampunk-Jules Verne themed restaurant located inside the Gateway Film Center. I immediately fell for the decor of brass portholes, woodcut sea monsters, leaded glass and a view screen that looped classic Verne inspired movies. The Torpedo Room is a fully licensed restaurant featuring fun food and drink. I had a brussel sprout pizza and a blood orange wheat beer. The Torpedo Room’s concept is the design of Columbus restaurant legend Elizabeth Lessner whose other clever eateries include Dirty Franks Hot Dog Palace and the Surly Girl Saloon all heavily themed, fun eateries. (Elsa and I added them all to our growing list of Cool Things to Do Next Time in Columbus. Before meeting Jason, I couldn’t have imagined such a list was possible.) One clever way The Torpedo Room partners with the Gateway is in creating special drinks to tie into the current running shows. Elsa and I are always scoping out what we call “Weird Date Nights,” and having the Torpedo Room inside the Gateway makes the traditional dinner and a movie easy and enjoyable.
Jason also arranged a personal tour of the Gateway Film Center. This modern day movie palace features both state of the art digital projection as well as not one but two theaters capable of showing 35mm prints. (Yes, there’s a difference.) While traversing the hidden innards of the building, I asked if the Gateway, like most theatres, was haunted and I learned of “Barry” (named after “Barry Lyndon,” of course) a good-natured spectre who occasionally unplugs devices and moves small objects. The Gateway makes great use of this facility to celebrate film, from independent features to classic gems to contemporary blockbusters. A couple of their on-going programs might particularly appeal to readers of DailyNightmare. The “Nightmares from the Crypt” film series screens lesser seen horror films worthy of a second look while their “Nightmares on High Street” series shows the best independent contemporary horror. I was particularly interested in their monthly “Show us your Shorts” event which is like an open-mike night for film. The first ten participants get to share their short film with the audience who votes for their favorite. Winner takes home the ticket sales for the night. What a great way to inspire filmmakers and foster a sense of camaraderie. The Gateway Film Center seems committed to making film a fun communal event.
Elsa and I chatted, munched and filled our list of cool Columbus must-hit locations, but we had one last question for our gracious host. We at the DailyNightmare believe horror is best seen against a backdrop of hope. What gives Jason Tostevin hope in this world?
My personal relationships make me hopeful. Some of the best, most supportive (and challenging, in the best way) people I’ve met have been on the film festival circuit; we’ve become an international network of indie filmmakers who promote and support and look out for one another. That’s pretty special and makes me optimistic.
In life, my wife and kids make me hopeful. Seeing my girls grow up in a world where there are real social issues being talked about and acted on — where most people agree that my daughters, when they’re grown, should be paid the same as men, that they don’t need to marry (but they can, including if they’re gay), that they should be free from men’s sexual expectations, that bullying is bad — has me optimistic that they’ll live in a world with better men and women than their parents did. And that’s kind of why we do it, right — tell stories and create a new generation. So the world gets better?
On this note, Elsa and I bid adieu to Jason Tostevin and the wonders of Columbus, assured in the fact that this year’s Impy had found a worthy home.
A shot early in the evening when the dance floor wasn’t packed
Let purists quibble that 2014 Krampus Ball Ypsi, held last night at the DreamLand Theatre, happened too long after the Feast of St. Nicholaus (December 6th) when the Krampus traditionally run free. There is NO better way to prepare for the shortest day of the year, than to dance the night away at a debauched masquerade. This was the first Krampus Ball that Elsa and I attended, and we were delighted top to bottom, start to finish.
I wish I could say that my dance floor photos were intentionally blurred to protect the naughty from Santa’s wrath, but truth is I couldn’t keep from shaking my ass long enough to take a good shot.
As befits the Krampus tradition, dancers took turns getting spanked. Here, a marionette Krampus scourged one of the naughty, which blended a deliciously perverse Punch and Judy element into the already twisted tradition. Throughout the night, the Dreamland Theater’s cast of marionettes performed. Make no mistake: puppets party hard.
I was extremely glad to see others had indulged their creativity.
The costume contest allowed contestants to shimmy and shake during the judging phase. But in the end, the golden baton went, appropriately enough to a Krampus — complete with basket of bad children.
At midnight, the festivities reconvened outside led by a locally familiar torch-bearer.
A brass band performed as we paraded to a mystery location, behind a traveling screen of shadow puppets. These monstrous outlines of light and shade seemed particularly appropriate for such near Solstice revels.
On and on, into the night, into the wilds, we danced.
We arrived at a secondary party location complete with fire barrels, more shadow puppets, and brass band music.
The party was still going STRONG when Elsa and I strayed back to reality, sure of only one thing: We’ll definitely be back for Krampus Ball 2015.
Sunset at RDSP RetreatDid you hear the one about the thirteen horror writers who gather at a secluded lodge, one with no cel phone reception deep in the wilds of Ohio, for a rainy weekend of word-smithing, camaraderie… and MURDER? Though perhaps a bit light on actual murder, this description fits the Raw Dog Screaming Press Writer’s Retreat. Elsa and I knew we had to crash the proceedings, especially after receiving the recent haul of books from this quality publisher of strange literature.
Our trek to the Bourbon Ridge Retreat was itself a writing prompt. Elsa’s cell phone got us to end of the highway before reception cut out completely. We had to resort to printed instructions, ones made difficult to read by the encroaching nightfall. A gentle fog rolled in on cue as we drove winding roads with whimsical names like “Clay Lick” and “Honey Goat Run.” The stray rays of our headlights illuminated signposts to ominously wholesome diversions, the wreckage of ancient barns, and the glowing eyes of creatures we took to be deer but perhaps were, in fact, these legendary “honey goats.” At one point, our car was pointed down a steep, weed-shrouded drive, nose to nose with a hand lettered sign “Posted: Absolutely NO Trespassers.” I wanted to take a photo but Elsa spun wheels in reverse. Eventually, we found the luxurious lodge and a warm welcome. This is where I wrote my morning pages, suckers. Raw Dog Screaming Press publishes high quality work across many genres, taking delight especially in works that cross and confound genre expectations. From some of the best bizarro to horror poetry to hyper-real dark literary and beyond, RDSP produces lovely volumes of great writing. The retreat was a similarly high-class affair. The Bourbon Ridge Retreat was a perfect location. The hilltop location afforded remarkable views of the region. You know that part of Ohio flattened with turnpikes and deadened by national chains? Hocking is NOT that part. The area screamed “local color.” The facilities were luxurious with just the slightest sense of “rustic” given by the knotty pine interiors and tasteful country-style decorations. Writers enjoyed a night-time dip in the hot tub. Very comfortable lounging space was generously arranged on all three floors, from the Great Room where I wrote my morning pages, to the intimate third floor alcove where I chatted with editor Jennifer Barnes to the lower floor’s high-end rec room where we staged an impromptu reading on Saturday night. Rumor has it, others played an epic late-night game of Cards Against Humanity there as well. Elsa and I were grateful that RDSP opened this event up to serious writers not currently on their roster.
As befits a “writer’s retreat,” the weekend was both productive as well as relaxing. Folks ducked off to the lodge’s many comfortable nooks to hammer out a draft or complete line edits, before cycling back to the nearly non-stop conversation that took place around the massive dining table. These discussions were the typical writerly chit-chat of networking news peppered with professional gossip, restaurant reviews and commentary on don’t-miss TV shows. Food and drink also appeared on this table almost constantly. Delicious Surgery on a Skull Pie
Elsa brought a selection of Skull Pies and I raided the cellar to bring a dozen bottles of my weirdest home-brewed mead. Jessica McHugh concocted a killer cocktail, a “Dark and Bubbly,” by blending my “Hearts of Darkness” black currant mead with champagne. Stephanie Wytovich brought conjoined twin gingerbread cookies… and aroused my suspicions by laughing far too heartily and frequently for a horror poet — do not be decieved: a dark soul lurks deep beneath that bubbly exterior. The words I shared with Kealan Patrick Burke were, for me personally, a highlight of the retreat. Though I knew nothing of his work before this weekend, he struck me as both charming and intense, quite possible possessed of true genius. I simply have to grab a copy of “The Tent,” his novella set in these captivating hills. Horror writers sometimes project a dark persona but everyone here was a delight to meet, face to face. Two heads are tastier than one
All too quickly, the weekend was over. After a photo on the steps, Elsa and I departed amid hugs and promises to meet again at World Horror Con or another regional convention. Our deepest thanks to Raw Dog Screaming Press for arranging this retreat.
If you have the opportunity to hide out in the woods with fellow writers, even writers who obsess with death and torture, madness and monsters, don’t be afraid. We save our worst for our writing.
When my buddy and fellow horror writer, David C. Hayes invited me to hunt ghosts at a fundraiser for the Historic Howell Theater, I only had two questions: Would I get to wear an unlicensed nuclear reactor on my back and could we please, PLEASE cross the streams? My droll Ghostbusters references aside, Elsa and I jumped at the chance for another weird-thrill date-night. The evening was a both an opportunity to check out the newly-reopened Howell Theater as well as a fun introduction to professional spectre detecting led by members of the Portal Paranormal Society who provided all the necessary equipment — alas, they neglected to bring a proton pack, P.K.E or the Ecto One.
I was eager to check out the Historic Howell Theater for very non-paranormal reasons– David clued me into the exciting direction it has taken since re-opening in September. New owner/operator Tyler DePerro has a flair for distinctive, slightly off-beat entertainment. The newly rebuilt stages in both theaters have allowed concerts and storytelling events in addition to an exciting collection of films, both classic and art-house contemporary. For instance, the Howell Theater just completed a retrospective of Roger Corman movies complete with introductions provided by David Hayes himself — he’s kind of a small-c celebrity in these parts. Check out their website and sign up for the mailing list to keep informed of what’s happening behind the fabulous retro marquee right on the old town main drag of Howell. My word to the youth of America: you don’t really experience a film when you watch it on your phone.
For the past three Saturday evenings, after the last mortal movie patron has departed, the Portal Paranormal Society has reached out to the ethereal residents of the Howell Theater. Elsa and I were glad to catch the last of these public investigations. We huddled with David and his wife Sandy in the lobby along with roughly twenty other amateur spook-sleuths while Lead Investigator Ken Suminski briefed us on their research about this “active” location. Even before it was a theater, this spot was used as a temporary infirmary for soldiers wounded in the Civil War, some of whom likely died there. Later, when the area was Town Square, traveling entertainers would perform and in fact, the PPS verified that a circus lion was buried on the spot. One of their researchers had previously experienced both audible growls as well as a spirit rush from a spectre the size and shape of a lion. When the Howell Theater opened in 1928, vaudeville acts performed there in addition to movies and the team had encountered one particularly unhappy ghost backstage in one of the theaters. Even if someone gave absolutely no credence to paranormal phenomena, it was a treat to learn bits of this narratively rich history.
The rest of the evening was a delightful traveling banquet where we sampled different techniques in different parts of the theater. In one auditorium, we did EVP, asking questions and allowing time for the spirits to reply while a recorder monitored results. One cool innovation that PPS uses is a spectral sing-along. We sang famous movie songs, stopping halfway through certain lines to see if the ghosts would continue singing without us. When it came time to ask questions of these beings in the great beyond, I found myself rather stumped. What *would* you ask ghosts in a theater? Elsa had the best idea, though too late to try: we should have ran classic movie lines that were themselves questions like “What are the 39 steps?” or “You know how to whistle, don’t you? Just put your lips together and blow.” The nature of EVP, unlike more direct methods of contact like a Ouija board or table-rapping, is that we won’t know what we got until the team reviews the recordings. PPS researchers took our email addresses and promised to share results once they’d analyzed the data.
In the other auditorium, we used what I think was called a “Spirit Box,” a radio that continuously scans radio waves. This technique gives immediate audible feedback to questions asked, but due to the constantly changing reception, such inquiries need to be more focused than with traditional EVP. I found the rhythmic, pulsing sussuration of the device rather mesmerizing, almost like noise collage music, and quite calming — I sensed no malevolent forces at play here. We asked all the questions we could think of and got at least a handful of responses.
The final area we investigated were the two attached projection booths where a silhouette had been seen on other occasions. Here we used a flashlight rigged so that the slightest impulse could cause it to flash on. Alas, it didn’t, at least not for us. The flashlight in the other room evidently was quite responsive which is not to say we had no unexplained responses. The most exciting result we had involved the door and a rap against the wall that was so loud it was heard downstairs. In the half-light, it was also cool to see both the modern digital projector as well as the huge antique 35mm projector.
As a final spiritual resting place, there are certainly worse places than the Historic Howell Theater. I know I’ll be back, likely with Elsa though few events could rival this Ghost Hunt for such a memorable weird-thrill data-night. (When I spoke with Ken, he suggested there might be more of these semi-public events in the area. Check out the Portal Paranormal Society website or friend them on FaceBook for updates.) As I entered the first theater, I removed my coat and rolled up the sleeves to allow more skin in case the ghosts wanted touch contact– I don’t think Elsa would be jealous of a chance, spectral caress. I also scanned the room for shadows, areas of darkness within the darkness. At befitting a theater, much of the reported activity here has been visual, I was told. I was struck by the feeling that I should remember this experience when people ask me where I get the ideas for my stories–I get them by looking for things I’m not supposed to see, putting into words things there aren’t already words for. I am far from a skeptic and have experienced many weird phenomena over the years, for likely many reasons. I hope to live long enough to experience much more– I hope at least some of them with my beloved Elsa — and as far as I’m able, to put those experiences into words.
