Smash the Glasses on the Floor

Wilkommen.

[elderflowerchampagne]

180 (12/1)

Not much to report from this visit except I got briefly locked in one of the fifth floor bathrooms, and for one terrifying moment had a flash-forward of my desiccated corpse being discovered years later like a mummy. Thankfully that did not happen, but if it had I would have went the way I wanted to go.

Goodbye, wonderful nurse. I never noticed before that the bookends in her 1:1 room are Scottish terriers.

I've developed a late-in-the-game tradition with myself of turning the dictionary on Grace's desk to "gratitude" whenever I'm there. It's page 208.

181 (12/22 early)

Jeeeeeeeeeesus Christ. Gonna be honest, folks: I thought we were a goner. Like all of us, I spent the 10 days of the shutdown obsessively refreshing Discord and getting no work done. I guess I should have had more faith.

Still, the shutdown made it real to me in ways it hasn't been all this time. I've never cried in this building, because I've never been anything but happy to be there, and I haven't cried this whole year because as long as they kept extending and jerking us around it wasn't real. But on the last night of the shutdown I sat alone in my apartment in Connecticut and cried. This was always going to be a terribly painful loss, and now that it's real I still can't quite find the words to mourn it.

By the time they let us in I was so overwrought and sad and relieved and sad and incredulous and overjoyed and sad that I just kind of stumbled in hands first making an unholy "huhhhhhhh" sound until I crashed against the bar and ordered an absinthe. And where will I crash after January 11?

I've begun to say my goodbyes to individual spaces, starting with Duncan's bedroom. I don't usually spend an awful lot of time there, so I never noticed before that the fire screen is in the shape of a peacock's tail. Hecate's influence pervades all. I also saw the shaving scene for the first time in years - I wish I'd seen more of it.

A rare Andrea Murillo bar appearance! So many of my all-time best McKittrick moments involve her, and what an absolute joy to have her back in these last few months.

182 (12/22 late)

Because I haven't learned anything in 13 years and it's too late to change now, I came charging out of the building and immediately booked a ticket for the late show. Doubles are not usually my thing, I've only ever done two before. But as we near the end, and especially after the last permit debacle, I feel compelled to wrap myself up in this place.

Aces were let in later than I've ever seen before - I was making my way down to the ballroom only to run into Lady Macduff already on her way back up.

Taylor is a wonderful Lady Macduff. She spends her last few minutes at home on top of the china cabinet rocking back and forth muttering the Hail Mary, which incidentally is how I spent the past two weeks. She also mumbles, "Daddy?" when she's drunk in the lobby.

The Christmas decorations made me pay attention to lighting in ways I never really have. The silhouette of Lady Macduff looking in the mirror against the warm light of her vanity lamp is A++.

I never noticed before that as Hecate prepares to rave you hear a swarm of birds approaching.

Goddamn, McNally Porter! I remember following him in the summer of 2012, and back then he called Agnes a bitch when she took the note back up to Hecate. This time he waved good-bye happily as she stormed off. Guess the years have mellowed him. He was also great fun to watch during the reset, which is not something I'm usually around for. He does a routine with his jacket and the mic stand similar to Mrs Vaudeville's coat act in Life and Trust.

I never noticed before that the horrifying seed pod flowers in the taxidermy case are grown in Hecate's apothecary.

I think the sixth floor is different now - I suspect because of fire marshall stuff. The route is more circuitous and the music plays for longer. The only reason I realized this was I was ready to get into the chair only to have my head thud against the wall. There are also pinpoints of light now, so it looks like the intro to The Twilight Zone.

You know, it's never really occurred to me what a miracle it is this place ever even came to be. I was looking at pictures from the nightclub days and thought, "Oh. The reason they set up a bar under the ballroom balcony during parties is there used to be one there." I think I just kind of figured this place was mythical, has stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. But obviously, logically, I have always known that not to be the case. And time marches on and thus must we all. We don't have to like it, just have to do it.

183 (1/26) early

This visit gave me Covid. It was worth it anyway. Mask up!

It's amazing and terrifying how precious ordinary things become right before we lose them. So many times this past week I've found myself staring into space thinking, "I want to remember how the strip of marble on the cash register in Paisley Sweets has the lower right corner cracked off. I want to remember how the portrait of the guy in Agnes' room looks like a president but I never figure out who he was. And the framed photo of two Black women on the desk. And the cookies in the Macduff apartment, and the baby Jesus with the bloody face. What if I forget the specific sound my feet made kicking a loose cobble on Gallow Green? All the ipecac. And the wafers in the fifth floor chapel. The thing in the apothecary that looks like a samovar, but why would it be? I have to remember remember remember oh god not ready not ready oh god."

Concurrent with that is the choking terror that I've done it all wrong. Why did I never warm up to Fulton? Why didn't I drink whiskey instead of martinis? (I know why: see Halloween 2016). Why didn't I do full loops instead of pinballing around all the time? Anyway, the conclusion I've come to is I have to put all that to bed. Let it go. I can't spend our last precious few hours clutching at things and talking to the walls and kissing every doorknob goodbye. Here's what it comes down to: This place and these people have been a massive, massive part of my life for a long, long time. I am deeply sad and deeply grateful. It has been a privilege. May we say goodbye with grace and joy.

All that said, this was a beautiful, full visit. Andrea was matron, so I figured it was as good a time as any to say goodbye to the hut. That was where this place first got its hooks into me, in May 2012, second visit, Mia Mountain/Matron saying, "No more tears. This will make you feel better." And goddamn if it didn't.

I'm not sure if this was intentional, but Andrea/Matron and Jenn P/Nurse both hold their fingers in the same position as the Infant of Prague statuette on the Macduff children's dresser.

This visit also marked goodbye to Hecate. I've never followed Gabrielle before but she's great. I used to have a way of remembering which way to run down the stairs after getting the note, because one side would put you with the porter, and the other would get you stuck on the wrong side of Lady Macduff's murder. It's been long enough since I got any Hecate 1:1s that I forgot which way it was, and I did indeed get stuck.

Banquo! One of my major regrets is never becoming a serious devotee of his. Pretty sure the woman literally breathing down my neck during the luggage solo was the one who gave me covid, so thanks, lady. I hadn't gotten the 1:1 in years - definitely not since reopening and probably not for a few years before that. It was nice to be able to say hello and goodbye to that room. I was happy to see they still had Rebecca's negligee. Those were happy days and I will go to my grave insisting that Danvers 100% DID SO slip a piece of ice into my boot that one time in like 2015.

Of COURSE the shot pheasants hanging in the porter's area are a The Birds reference. I also never noticed before that the porter (or someone associated with the hotel) is apparently named Norman, as evidenced on the letterhead by the lockers.

I checked to see if the scary baby doll is still there in its locker - thrilled to death to say it is.

So now here I am. In my childhood bedroom surrounded by lockets and masks and all the trappings of the thing that has been most precious to me for the last 13 years. In 24 hours it will be gone. I'm not feeling particularly articulate tonight, so I'll just reiterate what I said earlier. Thank you for the years, beloved old place. May we say goodbye with grace and gratitude.

-K

[elderflowerchampagne]

SNM 179 11/25/24

Well. I stopped writing these during this past insane fever year, and now that we're facing down the end it's time to go out the way I came in. Which is to say going on the internet and whining.

Two months away really tanked my ability to get around efficiently, so I spent quite a while in the lobby to watch Brandon's Porter. And as I watched him dancing on the reception counter, it came to me that what's most precious about this place is the layers of memory embedded within it. That I can't watch a lobby dance without thinking about the time EJB smashed a lamp, or Olly Hornsby-Sayer tap dancing on the bell. And standing in the Macduff hallway I think about the earring I lost there years ago, and the way I learned to put on lipstick from watching Lady Macduff, and the time Terndrup/Danvers spit on their Holy Family statue. Oh, place. Oh beloved place.

I don't want to admit that this was probably the visit where I said goodbye to Bald, but that feels right. Taylor is so brilliant.

I have become obsessed with things I've never noticed - and that's a lot. It took me until this July to realize the reason Lady Macbeth hates Lady Macduff is she's jealous she's pregnant.

Andrea M is a wonderful Lady Macbeth, and I'm so grateful she's been back this year. One of my all-time favorites in all the roles she's popped up in, including Lady Macduff, which apparently she only did a handful of times.

Jordan/Speakeasy is indeed as wonderful as people say.

I don't know what else to say. In line I joked that I felt like I was the violinist on the Titanic, but actually, I can't really think of anything more accurate to say than, "It's been a privilege." On we go.

[elderflowerchampagne]

165 (1/28 late)

I skipped writing one of these for 164, but all I have to say about that one is God bless Matilda and everything you've heard about Tim J porter is true. I watched open-mouthed.

I was supposed to go for my birthday/12 year anniversary on January 6, but the fucking rona finally got me.

Well, everyone, what the hell. It's February 10 and we're still here, though who knows for how much longer? *Paulie Walnuts voice* If I wanted to get jerked around I'd go to ya motha's house and she'd do it for free. But I am a sucker and a devotee and will remain so until the end, and thus today I do what is only my second ever double.

In any case, here's what I've learned in the visits since the announcement, and the announcement after the announcement, and the announcement after the announcement after the announcement: I can't do the thing where I say, "And this is the last time I'll see X, and goodbye forever Y." Just can't do it. Because when I'm there all I can do is be happy and grateful that this beloved place is still around to hide me, and I won't waste any of the precious few remaining hours there being sad.

I've never seen Robyne/Hecate but her bar character is exceedingly wonderful.

I wasn't supposed to be there at all, but was able to snag a last-minute ticket to say goodbye to a few old favorites, Jenna most of all.

Fuck those two kids in the bread ad on Gallow Green. They know what they did.

The Bald/Macduff neck snap is gone and I am quite upset.

Toward the end of the evening, I just stood on Gallow Green and thought, "Today was supposed to be the end, and it's not. But what would I do if it was? What would I do if this was really the end of this whole thing, and I only had these forty or so minutes left?" What I'd do, apparently, is go into Paisley Sweets and cram a bunch of black licorice in my mouth, and then go upstairs and slip a piece into the mouth of my beloved laundry coyote. Thanks, old pal.

My last and only double was five years, a pandemic and several pounds ago. As soon as I finish typing this I'm gonna sit on my parents' living room floor and stretch. Because I am the same idiot I was when I was 19, just with a credit card.

[washthisblood]

If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.

The second Mrs. de Winter, Rebecca (Daphne du Maurier, 1938)

[elderflowerchampagne]

163 (11/19 late)

Oh God. I can't quite put all the words together yet to accurately describe how this feels, or what I'll do with myself. I don't know. Grieve, I guess, as we all are. Change. Let go. But oh, God.

I skipped writing one of these for my last visit back in August, which of course I now regret. I wish I had written everything down, every visit. But alas. Anyway, back in August dear wonderful Emily Oldak surprised me and showed up as matron. And if that's the last time I enter that hut, OK. OK.

Mostly I spent this visit walking around and shaking. I thought I'd feel compelled to do everything, see everything, start my goodbyes, but I wasn't. I couldn't cry, either, because I was just happy to be there, in those dearly beloved familiar halls that have formed so much of the landscape of my life over the past 12 years. It's been somewhere to hide, somewhere to celebrate, grieve, and be safe. Looking back over past recaps, the word I used most to describe this place was "sturdy." It was a place where, no matter what was happening on the outside, I could say, "Well, at least I've got...." And losing that is scary.

I had this overwhelming urge to hug the walls, as in quite literally wrap my arms around them and hold on for dear life. Thank you, beloved old friend, thank you.

One of my favorite residents is the coyote in the fifth floor laundry room. I have a vivid memory of being so startled by him on my first visit that I screamed. Over the years I've often stopped by to give him nose scratches or pets, but this time I sat next to him on the floor, wrapped my arms around his neck, and just sat there for as long as I could without looking like a lunatic. Was nice to have something to cling to. I've never noticed before that he has a friend who stands on top of the lockers.

I've become obsessed with what I've never noticed, and with the feeling that as time slips away from us there will always be things I never knew, pieces I never put together, things that were obvious to everyone else that I never figured out. That never used to stress me out before. I guess I figured we'd always have time.

Aaron Samuel Davis is a wonderful Boy Witch. It's been years since I saw the pool table solo, and even longer since I saw the shower scene. Do all Boy Witches throw their shoes in the sink?

My first love, believe it or not, was Bald Witch. She's not really someone I've paid all that much attention to since reopening, but I like Micaela so I stayed after the first ball to watch her dance with Macduff. It never occurred to me that the bird cry is likely Hecate calling her up to the fourth floor

I love you, green light that sweeps down during the rave.

Taylor is a great nurse - the first I've ever seen bust out the maskography.

As I usually do when shows are crowded, I spent most of my time on my favorite floor drifting around and reading patient files. There was a new one I'd never seen - Sara Matthews, who poisoned all her children and now keeps muttering something about her mother and a lighthouse. Her husband's name is Jonathan but she'll freak out if you mention him. She's receiving regular shock treatment.

I spent some time just sitting on Lady Macduff's bed in their apartment downstairs. How have I never noticed they have a front door? Anyway, I sat there squinting at her Latin Bible passages and the spray of dried flowers above her bed. I've never really questioned why the Macduffs sleep in separate beds, though of course I've always known they do. I only just recently learned the meaning of the pin candle, too. She's waddling proof that their sex life is somewhat intact, but I don't think it's a coincidence that she has the bedroom of a little girl, or that the flowers above her bed are all dead. Beautiful drunken pregnant lady, I will miss you most of all. Anyway, as I was sitting there, I turned and saw a doorway full of white masks staring at me.

No matter what I do I can't shake the feeling that this will end and I will somehow have never understood this place, never have done it "correctly," never actually seen what's in front of me. And as time slips away from us (as, of course, it's been doing all these years), I feel compelled to stuff as many visits between me and the end as possible. Which is to say I'll be there Saturday late.

At some point between now and 1/28 I'll probably end up on the floor somewhere just muttering, "I love you, don't leave me," but we're not there just yet.

[unexplained-events]

A monument to lab mice

Built in park near the Institute of Cytology and Genetics in Novosibirsk, Russia.

[thefourromanovsisters-deactivat]

[otmaaromanovas]

Rare photograph of Tatiana Nikolaevna learning to rollerskate on the Standart

[the-last-tsar]

"As she grew into a teenager, the best that the beautiful but poor Princess Alix of Hesse could have hoped for to relieve her from the unchallenging tedium of Darmstadt provincialism was marriage to a minor European princeling. But everything changed when on her first visit to Russia in 1884 (for the marriage of her sister Ella to Grand Duke Sergey Alexandrovich), Alix's third cousin, Nicholas Alexandrovich, heir to the Russian throne, had taken a shine to her. He was sixteen and she was only twelve, but thereafter Nicky, as she would always call him, remained besotted. Five years later, when Grand Duke Louis took Alix back to Russia on a six-week visit, Nicky was still stubbornly determined to win her as his wife. The shy schoolgirl had become a slender, ethereally beautiful young woman and Nicky was deeply in love. But by now — 1889 — Alix had been confirmed in the Lutheran faith prior to coming out, and she made clear to Nicky that despite her deep feelings for him, marriage was out of the question. Virtue prevailed. She could not and would not change her religion, but she did agree to write to him in secret, their letters being sent via Ella as intermediary. The royal marriage stakes at that time were unforgiving to girls who did not grasp a golden opportunity when it presented itself; as one contemporary newspaper observed, 'Love in royal circles is not an epidemic affection'." It seemed that Alix's inflexibility was going to deprive her of the one thing so many of her young royal contemporaries craved — a marriage based on love and not expediency. To a forlorn Nicky there seemed an insurmountable gulf between them and he allowed himself to be temporarily distracted by other pretty faces. For her own part, Alix was enjoying a degree of status back home, as a big fish in the very small Hesse pond."

The Romanov Sisters | Helen Rappaport.

[elderflowerchampagne]

161 (6/29)

Probably my best visit since reopening. Cast was an absolute embarrassment of riches, packed with favorites old and new: Mallory/Hecate, Zach McNally/Macbeth, Will B/Malcolm, Steph Troyak/Lady Macbeth, Taylor Massa/Sexy and Jenna/Lady Macduff. One of those rare, beautiful moments where I found myself standing in the ballroom whispering, "WHAAAAAAAAT. WHATTTTTTTT. WHATTTTTTTTT."

I can't speak for Danvers but Lady Macduff's 1:1 has, at long last, returned. The last time I got it was my last show before the shutdown, and oh, what a joy to get back into that room. As far as I could tell nothing's changed except one detail - she crosses you on your forehead, throat and hand rather than forehead, lip and throat. Lady Macduff's been my favorite character since Day 1, and so I spent what's supposed to be a tense and ominous moment with the biggest idiot grin on my face.

I've always worn rose colored glasses when it comes to the Macduffs and their marriage, and assumed that they were the picture of domestic bliss before Danvers showed up. The two of them messing around on their couch at the top of the loop has always been among my favorites, especially the moment where he walks his fingers up her leg. This was the first time I thought she might actually be afraid of her husband the same way Lady Macbeth is, and when they're wrestling on top of the china cabinet she might be wriggling away from him rather than towards something else.

Dearly beloved Mallory. On a less busy visit I'd have spent an entire loop with her but I was so pressed for time I ended up bringing her note to the porter, getting the boat from him and then leaving it on Lady Macduff's dressing table. Sorry.

I suspected Taylor would be brilliant and was correct.

I never noticed before that if you run by Malcolm's office while his coat and hat are hanging on the rack, they form the silhouette of a man standing there. I'll never get bored of the light tricks in this place.

I'm terrible at timing the sixth floor 1:1, and as I was heading for the bathroom I accidentally barged in on Michaela Esteban and her crowd and got swept into the 1:1 before I could get back out again. She's really wonderful.

Bumped into Lady Macduff's pregnant belly during the walkout and realized I'd never actually felt it before. I don't know what I was expecting, but it's a lot squishier than I thought it would be.

Midsommar was pretty standard. Fun and chaotic, nothing major to report except I and everyone else miss the old parties. But oh, McKittrick, beacon of joy and light, nexus of all that is good in my life, if you ever charge me for water again I'm gonna lose my mind.

[thestarik]

The Imperial Family at Peterhof.

[yesterdaysprint]

Courier-News, Plainfield, New Jersey, November 24, 1936

[elderflowerchampagne]

160 - 5/21

I skipped writing one of these last time, but returned this week amid the chaos of the sudden rule change re:entry times. It went smoothly as far as I could tell, but it's a huge pain in the ass in that it puts an end to last-minute ticket buying. What am I supposed to do? Miss fifteen minutes of something I've already seen? Like some kind of ANIMAL??!

While we're on the topic of inexplicable changes , what's with Danvers' new outfit? I'm sure there must be some kind of logic behind it but I can't imagine what.

Apparently the early show on Sunday was canceled due to lighting issues. Everything went as usual for the late except for the fact that the lights in the maze were completely out, resulting in my walking directly into the wall. Whammo.

With a very brutal Lady Macbeth, Stephanie Troyak remains my favorite new person.

One of my most consistent McK pastimes has always been sitting in Macduff's empty office and clacking out messages on the broken typewriter.

Until about a month ago I'd never seen Psycho. Can confirm that a lot of stuff makes more sense now. I also noticed that the little hut on the sixth floor ceiling looks an awful lot like the Bates Motel outbuildings, and there are figures on the porch.

Taylor Massa is great. That is all.

For the first ever I was disoriented enough not know what loop we were in. I was pretty sure it was the top of the second, but could have sworn I'd already seen two opening balls aside from the initial one, which resulted in me crash landing in Manderley and frantically asking one of the bar characters what time it was.

It was indeed top second, and I spent a while having a very nice conversation with Will Boyajian/Benji. He's very pleasant.

New party!! That's certainly welcome news, especially with the new non-insane price. If they really wanna play into the Midsommar theme they'll hit someone in the face with a hammer.

After the show someone cheered for Stella Sinclair and was rebuffed with a perplexed, "Stella's not here." Yes she is. Free her.

[thestarik]

Alexandra and her daughters with Rasputin.

[elderflowerchampagne]

This one is 100% new to me.

[delicateflowers-of-the-past]

Various selfies taken by Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia (1901-1918) featuring her sisters Tatiana and Maria, 1900s

The first photo/selfie was sent along with a letter where she wrote “I took this picture of myself looking at the mirror. It was very hard as my hands were trembling.”

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Measuring tape, late 1800s.

[thefourromanovsisters-deactivat]