It’s that time of year again, and I can’t stand myself.
I’m rereading Anne Rice novels and identifying with Louis, listening to Disintegration on repeat for days, armoring myself in leather and black. Having the glass of wine and chasing the Golden Moment all night, defending Heathcliff to my friends, standing in the cold and smoking (if you’re my mother stop reading) the occasional lonesome cigarette.
It happens every November, like clockwork, to the point where I make a joke about it. November is scheduled for Byronic sadness, hours of silent reading time, and fits of moody pique.
Personally, I can’t stand the transition from Halloween to Christmas. Halloween is October and the winter holidays are December, and so people seek to devour November, to add one more day to the sales and hustle-bustle for some reason.
Because November is for being alone in the grey quiet, which I think is a wonderful gift, and most people would rather die than just enjoy the silence.
To be clear - it’s not depression. That’s a gloomy octopus of its own with whose tentacles I am familiar, and if it were that, well. I wouldn’t be here chatting with you fine people.
No, this is something sacred, something I almost look forward to - a month between two of the year’s brightest points to enter thirty days of devotion to the purity of sadness. The longing, the yearning, there’s something very beautiful and gothic to it, and well - perhaps you get it or you don’t. It isn’t not annoying. It’s certainly an archetype, and I suppose there’s a reason everyone else uses the term Byronic a bit derisively. Me, I just get offended that more people don’t apply it to me just because I’m a woman.
Which brings me back to the humor of it, the fact that I can’t stand myself. I spend November in grey seclusion and I adore it. November air is the best there is for a chilly open window and a book, a late night conversation and a bottle of wine, a day spent in the grey covers, alone or with a dear friend of the same moody persuasion.
You better not be romanticizing your melancholic solitude, the memesmiths say, and I’m sorry to say: I am, and shall be for another week at least. Opponents will be faced with a duel to the death or a passionate kiss, there are no in betweens.
Want some music for the mood? Sure you do. (There is one Taylor song, the woman gets melancholy god damnit)
Punchline: The Gotham Game #2 is out this week, and I’m so pleased at this great review from the folks at Arsenal Comics and Games:
Blake is really killing it on this series, and as it goes on it just gets better and better - from about issue 3 on it’s really him in the driver’s seat entirely, and I’m loving it. Watching him take the lead on this has been rad, Gotham City has always been one of our favorite places, how fun it’s been to visit and cause trouble as a couple.
The Catwoman TPB is out in the world as well, and it’s continued to be exciting to watch the trade audience discover Nico and I’s opening story. Very exciting, fun stuff, and thank you for all of your kind words.
We’re closing in on having more Phenomenocity for you guys very soon. Before Chapter 3 drops, I’ll be posting a form here to collect some info regarding your addresses and mailing info for physical rewards, so keep an eye on your inboxes for that, darlings.
One more thing before we go -
BETSY BRADDOCK TO THE FLOOR
BETSY BRADDOCK: CAPTAIN BRITAIN #1 is now available for pre-order at your local comic shop or online!
If you’re a CEREBROCAST listener, you may have heard my voice during the ad break. We’re activating the street team for this one folks, this is gonna be a big debut and we want Betsy’s first solo outing as Captain Britain to be huge. Give a call to your local shop and place an order, if you don’t mind spreading the love.
Lastly, it wouldn’t be Betsyposting without a look at her cute gf!
STAY WEIRD, talk soon!
-TH 11.21.22. 18:35
I feel this so hard. There's this ~mood~ between the summer and winter that I'm pretty sure would be autumn for most people except autumn doesn't seem to exist very well around here (NC ... you know what it's like), and I get all 'oooh let's burn candles and wear black and stare bleakly outside while writing and reading poetry.' Which, yes, is often Byron. xD