I usually read ghost story/weird fiction anthologies for their imagery and gloomy atmosphere but don't find them legitimately frightening, with some notable exceptions. One is a decaying book I picked up from a thrift store based on title alone (Ghosts Vivisected by A..W Stirling). Another is "The King in Yellow" by Chambers, which has become popular most recently with fans of the first season of True Detective (excluding its not-nearly-as-spooky romance stories).

Also, here's the cover of another collection I thrifted, for anyone actually reading this buried comment . It doesn't necessarily included the best representative samples of these authors' writing, but this illustration is airbrushed onto the truck... of my heart?
http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/513fAhvFCvL...

Unfortunately not a full-fledged fashion blog anymore, but have you heard of Sea of Ghosts? I think I'd dress a lot like her if I came into some money and wanted to retain my dark style.

Congratulations!

I'm currently taking a break from unloading stuff. *Raises imaginary wine glass*
I'm not big looking forward to living somewhere without many basic amenities (for the time being) or much room for stuff like books (ever :((( ), but it'll be a relief to be able to stay in one place indefinitely!

Hm, I think about this a lot. I guess I was raised with an odd melange of typically upper-middle class and working class social values, despite belonging to neither category financially. My parents are from a working class background, but were a little more affluent during the nineties. However, they've recently had to cut down on the outward trappings of a "middle class" existence in order to be able to pay off their debt before their nineties. Yet they're still obsessed with the ideas of "keeping up appearances"/ appearing upwardly mobile. In fact, my entire family seems really hateful of anyone "below" them socially, even if they themselves have a similar level of income. It's kind of disturbing, but it doesn't seem like many people in the U.S. are willing to examine these sorts of "fuck you, I've got mine" mentalities.

I don't know where I'm going to end up. I sunk a lot of money into a "prestigious" educational program but I've been either unemployed or employed well below a living wage since then; I'm about to start a job that's barely above minimum wage. I can't afford to drive or live independently, and I can't imagine ever pulling myself out of this debt-hole, but I realize I'll always occupy a certain social status in the eyes of others. I feel like I can only identify with the people I encounter regularly up to a certain point. For example, I'm in awe of my cousins' or boyfriend's safety nets and financial comfort (even if I identify with them socially), but I know the circumstances of my upbringing are very different from many of the people I encounter on the job. I guess I'm in a stereotypically middle class predicament but I still don't actually know a lot of people in my particular situation.

I'm late to this thread, but <3 it, obviously. It's always wonderful to discover weird fiction written by people who -wouldn't- care about the Central Asian "taint" in my bloodline and whatnot.

Also, Pet Sematary has one of my favorite depictions of grief in fiction, period. It's too bad so many people are dismissive of genre fiction in its entirety.

Welp, now I know the real reason I'm a borderline INFJ rather than an INTJ: not only do I still have all my birth toes, but I am also physically incapable of juggling. Once, during my childhood, a camp counselor actually told me that I was -the- worst prospective juggler they had ever seen. From that day forward, I clowned no more.

I watched the show with someone who was trying their hardest to take it seriously, but we both lost it at a certain motorcycle scene. Last night I saw someone on the internet compare Taylor Kitsch's character to James from Twin Peaks and, guys, he gets even more amusing once you start thinking about him along those lines.

Yes, haha! These would be some good office/cubicle decorations paired, perhaps, with "baby photos" that are actually stills from Eraserhead.

Yikes, please tell me this comment is nesting correctly on everyone else's browser?

Welcome to the surprisingly-large-cup-size, yet-no-bra-necessary club! I can comfortably do jumping jacks without wearing one, but I'm actually a D-DD because my rib cage is preternaturally emaciated.

How do you work up the courage to go braless for extended periods of time, though? I'm worried that a hint of nipple might show through through thin summery fabrics, or something.