kristy bowen | writer & book artist

The colder and altogether darker part of fall has firmly settled in and I'm determined to deal with it by working steadily on the play script I wrote about earlier in the week, lighting candles at dusk, and trying to distract myself from the gloom of the sky outside and the toxicity of media, both news and social (and is there a difference anymore anyway?). It snowed earlier in the week, enough to stick around for a couple days and make sidewalks suitably messy. Luckily, most of our outings involved parking garages, or at the least, cleared sidewalks. They included tickets to see Frankenstein on the big screen at Alamo and Steppenwolf's Amadeus , perhaps the best creative frenemy story in history.   Frankenstein was, as expected beautiful. It felt very wholesome and Toro-esque in the vein of The Shape of Water or Crimson Peak, which strikes a notable comparison between what many expect of a Frankenstein remake--that it would be darker and more disturbing, akin to the earlie...