Every few days there’s another rumor, another boycott, another crowd gathering with pitchforks before anyone has bothered to check whether the village actually has a monster.

There is time to write and write without worrying that someone might wander past and catch an unfinished thought sitting naked on the screen. There is privacy for stupid ideas to become interesting ones. There is music, wild imagery, old movies, strange muses, bad decisions, beautiful mistakes, and that familiar obsession with anything dark, creepy, intriguing, or just a little bit sexy...