Zee Cheeldren of the Night

ryuusama recruited me to scout out a couple of Capitol Hill-area apartments, yesterday, in preparation for her planned move here, this summer. A series of excerpts from my reported findings follow, with her responses. Place names and some other revealing specifics have been omitted/changed to protect us both against all of you crazed LiveJournal stalkers:

( Cutty Snark )

More Deadwood

I'm drawn to Deadwood by the same morbid curiosity that's kept me watching The Sopranos, all this time: it's a sort of frontier gangster drama, and, beneath that, a theater of human failings.

As I'm coming to the end of Season One, I'm also developing an appreciation for the dialogue's idiosyncratic mix of Victorian elocution and frontier twang. The language is generally profane, unfailingly pithy (as when Cochran swears "Well, if this is His [i.e., God's] will, He's a son of a bitch!") and even occasionally veers toward genuine eloquence (as when Sol ventures that "People have made good lives out of borrowed ones, before").

Also, I can't help noticing by how much Deadwood's resource-extraction/prostitution-based economy resembles Bill Speidel's accounts of early Seattle ...