Gorgeous

It’s only the first week of October, but already the gauntlet for seasonal spookiness has been thrown down.
It’s hard to imagine that there will be any more frightening sights on All-Hallow’s Eve than the one that was witnessed around Carkeek’s firepit on the first Thursday of the holiday’s month: at least a score of same-faced ghouls (whose images, however, were customized with different drippings of blood and a variety of scary teeth and fangs) glimmered in the dancing flames, shoes occasionally afire.

The predictable axe-murderers, vampires, and zombie Donald Trumps to emerge on Halloween will likely pale in comparison when it comes to inciting terror, and assuredly won’t come close to inducing such hysterical laughter as did the multiple Georges. 

For all those out there who were readying their Caitlyn Jenner costumes for this year’s All Saint’s Eve festivities, you’ve been served.

I myself will probably never relocate to New York City from the Pacific Northwest, but if I were to, I don’t think I’d be brave enough to endure the spectacle of my own face peering back at me from so many others.  It was frightening enough to conjecture with the departing guest of honor that he’s got thirty-four more years of opportunities to do so again before he reaches my age; the prospect of carrying on like this at age ninety-two, however, doesn’t seem so bad, just so long as such shenanigans persevere, as well.

Time is simply change under observation, you might say, so when you do the same thing over and over (especially behind almost identical masks), the clock stops and you get to cavort in the realm of eternity.

“Numerous opportunities for disaster” was how longtail rider Lalo put it and yet, about the worst that happened was losing a friend in the woods for a while.   A small search party found her, though, in plenty of time for lots more fire, a little dancing, and enough Georges to scare you silly.