Sigrid isn’t one to open up easily or speak much about her childhood, but something she told me about growing up and taking care of her unwell mother inspired this story: When Linda Sketched the Dead.
If you’re in a dark place or up against some challenges that are proving tougher than you expected, maybe some of these songs can help you power through. (Because of their lyrics or just the way they feel.)
1) Everybody Hurts (R.E.M.)
When your day is night alone (Hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (Hold on)
2) Bridge Over Troubled Water (Simon & Garfunkel)
When darkness comes
And pain is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
3) Love Reign Supreme (Alison Moyet)
We are more in the sum
Of the numbers we’ve been done
And it’s right to be kind
Even as your chest is bleeding
4) You Gotta Be (Des’ree)
Listen as your day unfolds
Challenge what the future holds
Try and keep your head up to the sky
5) Shake It Out (Florence + The Machine)
And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope
It’s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat
6) Level Up (Vienna Teng)
If you are afraid, come forth.
If you are alone, come forth now.
7) Afterlife (Ingrid Michaelson)
Living like you’re dying isn’t living at all
Give me your cold hands put them on my heart
8) 8 Good Reasons (Sinéad O’ Connor)
But I got 8 good reasons to stick around
8 good reasons, well maybe nine now
9) I See a Darkness (Johnny Cash)
But can you see this opposition comes rising up sometimes?
That it’s dreadful imposition, comes blacking in my mind.
10) By Myself (Judy Garland)
I’ll face the unknown, I’ll build a world of my own
No one knows better than I myself, I’m by myself alone
11) Innuendo (Queen)
Through the sorrow all through our splendor
Don’t take offence at my innuendo
12) Non, je ne regrette rien (Edith Piaf)
Avec mes souvenirs
J’ai allumé le feu
13) I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel To Be Free (Nina Simone)
I wish I could do
All the things that I can do
Though I’m way overdue
I’d be starting anew.
Hank and Ivy are married and share many interests. They’re independent and intertwined, mapping out a shared life of love and nerdy pursuits.
Both are in their early 30s. Ivy has a Mexican American mother and African American father. Hank has an African American mother and Irish American father. Both of them have dark hair that they occasionally dye blue, purple, or green, as the mood strikes.
Their chief passion is creating and playing computer games. Additional interests: gardening, making and wearing costumes, and playing board games and capture the flag. They’re big on role-playing of all sorts. As far as work goes, both their jobs involve programming, I think; they don’t talk much about their work.
Currently, Ivy is pregnant.
Some of Their Differences
From what I’ve seen, Hank has a stronger tendency to get stressed out and be pessimistic. Ivy is more prone to flights of fantasy, with amazing ideas as a result, though not all of them can be effected within the limitations of this world. (But do we fully understand the limits of this world?)
Throughout October, Zeb asked Kilter Street Manor residents to write their worst fear and leave it in a basket in the mailroom. Everyone chose to do it anonymously, and most people typed up their notes. Now Zeb has tacked the notes up on the mailroom bulletin board, crowding out the takeout menus and the polaroid photos of bare tree branches Mrs. Selby has taken to sharing.
Here are the worst fears, the day after Halloween 2015
From its origins in the 19th century as a zoo displaying asylum patients, the Museum of Mental Maladies has come a long way. Now it’s housed in a magnificent structure that resembles a brain separating out into different lobes. This is a visual symbol of the various psychological and neurological problems exhibited at the museum.
Some City of Possibility residents have protested the use of the expression “mental maladies,” as it’s slightly old-fashioned and because the museum has broadened its scope somewhat. In recent years, it has set aside some space for a Mental Wellness Wing devoted to exhibits on improving psychological health.
The museum also has a Community Atrium where support groups can meet and people can share (out loud or in writing), their thoughts on various problems.
Mrs. Selby hosted three viewing parties recently, one for each TV adaptation of the following Dorothy Sayers’ novels: Strong Poison, Have His Carcase, and Gaudy Night.
Set in the late 1920s through mid 30s, each stars Edward Petherbridge as Lord Peter Wimsey, the aristocratic sleuth, and Harriet Walter as Harriet Vane, the mystery writer.
Although, like other screen adaptations, they tend to leave out substance from the books and can’t fully capture the author’s energy, humor, and literary wit, there’s much to recommend them. Mainly the way the actors interpret their characters, the humanity they bring out, and the chemistry they enjoy between them. I really liked Petherbridge’s Wimsey and Walter’s Vane. And I was very fond of Richard Morant’s interpretation of Bunter (Peter Wimsey’s valet and assistant in criminal investigations).
Along with Mrs. Selby and me, there were three other regulars: Dora, Michiko, and Gilbert Frisch. However, Lewis came by for Strong Poison; Hank & Ivy watched Have His Carcase, because they’d heard about the code-cracking scene; and Howard popped in for Gaudy Night, mostly because of his interest in the Oxford scenes, his interest in Mrs. Selby’s red wine, and his need to procrastinate on an assignment due two days later.
So, that said – what were our impressions of each adaptation?
Does Mrs. Selby have a first name? Her mailbox just says ‘Selby,’ and to be honest, I can’t imagine her with a first name. She seems like she was born Mrs. Selby. (Selby being the name of her second husband, I think.)
Mrs. Selby is old. How old? I don’t know. I’ve heard people wishing her happy birthday on different dates, and she seems to just absorb multiple birthdays as if they’re nothing.
She’s a beautiful woman. Not a magazine beauty, but beautiful in the way of an old china gravy boat or a lace doily. She can talk about almost anything: The weather, the flowers on her windowsill, what she tells her flowers when they’re dying on her. She talks about the mice and squirrels that live in the walls. She’s heard ghosts in the corridors of our apartment building. She tells me about her childhood, her jolly drunk father, her mother who never smiled. She describes books she reads, written by outdoorsy folk who wax poetic about the tawny hides of fawns in dappled woods. She watches black-and-white movies and spoils the endings for me. She watches soap operas and fills me in on which pair of amnesiacs made love last week on a hospital bed or a bearskin rug. I know all of the pet peeves of both her late husbands. As a rule though, she never talks about her only child, who died when he was twenty.Continue reading “Kilter Street Profiles: Mrs. Selby”