ARIES:flattened paper boats scattered like the remains of a murdered animal along a dried up river, rundown motels with their blasted neon signs and smashed-in windows, pink streamers from some neighborhood child’s birthday party shuffling across the street like bright tumbleweed, a train rattling off into the breathless night & the trace remnants of a week old bonfire found in the middle of nowhere.
TAURUS:chipped paint, shattered shot glasses lying across an abandoned pool table missing a few billiard balls, flyers rustling like autumn leaves against the tempestuous tides of the wind, advertising concerts & magic shows that took place in 2005, the sillage of old perfume clogging up the air, still thick as the scent of blood or wildflowers.
GEMINI:the corpse of a cigarette that hasn’t touched a mouth in months, a dilapidated playground where lost souls come out to play, threadbare curtains ripped like the wings of a dissected bird, strange red-brown stains across the hotel bedsheets, a gate grown weary with new-forming foliage & age, whining erroneously whenever maneuvered.
CANCER: an empty casket, coffee rim imprints across hardwood tables, an old, tattered shoe lying haphazardly on the side of the road, a junkyard littered with ancient cars still soggy with stories, a pick-up with a broken windshield, a cadillac with a massacred paint job, someone’s motorcycle with blood staining the front tire, an askew portrait with eyes that follow you around the room.
LEO: a carnival horse with one eye scratched out, a daycare centre that shut down years ago, plagued with the colorful ghosts of children’s drawings still tacked to the crumbling walls, a spiral staircase that seems to shift direction when nobody’s paying attention, crunched up beer cans rolling across an empty rooftop & lichen kissing the concrete.
VIRGO: the supermarket, flickering & eerie at night like the shadows unearthed beneath troubled eyes, owls stirring in between the murmuring trees, a single upturned grave in a cemetery that isn’t supposed to be notorious for hauntings, an old fountain still glistening with pennies that are no longer considered currency, a collapsed bottle of wine running the tiles red.
LIBRA:handprints imprinted onto fogged-up windows, red rooms crowded with developing photographs of people whose faces you recognize but cannot quite place, broken doll heads, a necklace that erupted into a sea of pearls, a deflated blow up kiddie pool collecting parched grass and critters, a busted arcade game & the laughter of people long gone still trapped inside the walls.
SCORPIO: books with grimacing yellow pages, someone attempting to sell you a cursed object on etsy, a leaky shower-head, a clock that’s stuck in time, a torn, unravelled couch sitting deserted in someone’s front lawn, candy stores that proclaim sales on expired sweets & ruddy patches of farmland.
SAGITTARIUS:basements stacked with unwanted toys, a box of thin-mints, footsteps reverberating around the house when it’s 2 AM and you’re home alone, a burned down lemonade stand, that weird alien light in the third window of your neighbor’s house that never seems to get turned off, a certain rattling coming from the kitchen.
CAPRICORN: rain pummeling against damp ceilings, clothes ripped off the washing line, an empty aquarium, obscure little thrift stores that sell leather jackets from the eighties, gas station lights flirting with you from the distance, the alley where they say the vagabonds roam their night countries, sniffing up and dressing down and slitting the throats of angels.
AQUARIUS:those tiny coffee shops that fill you with nostalgia for places you’ll never visit, ‘JESUS LOVES YOU’ spray-painted across the sides of ramshackle buildings, an antique almirah scratched to high hell, a monster in the closet, the tunnel beneath the bridge that half the town believes is a gateway to hell, smoking up in trip mall parking lots.
PISCES: halloween decor presented in shop windows a couple months early, visiting that lake where you heard that one kid drowned, the garage door slamming without cause or notice, storing fireflies in jars, drugstore makeup, birthday cake flavored oreos, a wheeled desk chair that seems to turn on its own when nobody’s in the office, a candle snuffed out on a windless evening.
“A bunch of meddling teenagers and a minor eldritch abomination who takes the form of a funny talking animal investigate a murderous occult conspiracy beneath the surface of a small town, and also they fight God at the end.”
I do find it profoundly interesting the differences in how female fans interpret Vader versus how male ones appreciate him. There’s a lot more interest in what he represents as a deconstruction of the male power fantasy and its toxic effects, which probably says as much about gender ideology in American culture as anything.
haha yes, there does seem to be a split in readings down gendered lines. The difference might come down to how the various camps interpret the relationship of action and reaction, of surface and interior.
Speaking personally though, I have to say that for all that I love seeing Vader exposed, deconstructed, suffering and reforming, for all that his scenes in ROTJ devastate and move me and have accompanied me through life as a question and a task, I am also 10000% here for the murdering. The end of RO was as viscerally satisfying for me as for the stereotypical fanboys, I think - I am not exaggerating when I say I could watch Vader mowing down armies, setting off grenades with his mind, Force-choking-at-a-distance, punching things out of the sky, tossing corpses at the Emperor’s feet etc. all fucking day. If favorite films are psychological tests, then ESB - another fanboy favorite - probably says quite a bit about this/my psyche. Perhaps a more reliable indicator of camp-allegiance (than whether one is as ghoulishly eager as I am to watch him unleash hell) would be whether one saw value in the PT or not. I have unreserved love for PT!Anakin, which also puts me on the same ground as a lot of if not all female fans - at least anecdotally, I can say that while I personally have yet to meet a man outside of this website who liked the PT, I also have encountered plenty of women who dislike it for many of the same reasons as those men.
Sometimes I think my fascination with Vader might have to do with a certain paradox: if someone makes you angry and you show anger with your very own face you are weak, you have lost face, you have shown yourself vain and driven by a selfish, animal, irrational, feminine urge to defend yourself; but if you show anger without a face, if you show it unpersonally (the less it’s connected to direct accusation or a specific ill), especially in order to execute a role, then you suddenly appear to be the one in the position of strength, because you can no longer be directly accused of selfishness. The more you can cloak anger in the guise of necessity, the more you meet the societal expectation to be dispassionate, rational, always controlled - the more justification and legitimacy and power to you, even though this mode of anger is often more destructive than the first. This dynamic, assuming it exists as I’ve hypothesized it, is why I think Anakin codes as feminine to many, while Vader appeals to a certain masculine ideal. Putting the two halves together is something I particularly enjoy, but … this shouldn’t be generalized and is an undigested thought in any case.