You see RISD kids dressed just as RISD kids dressed two decades ago.  Is it simply the rotation of the trend cycle or something else?

The demolished church with the missing steeple in Federal hill doesn’t seem to be gone if you look out at the skyline on certain evenings, or are you looking at the wrong church?  There are so many.

You walk to The Shunned House on Benefit street.  The sign warns of a mad dog, but you’ve never heard barking… come to think of it, you’ve never seen the lights on.

You go to Olneyville for a New York System Wiener, what does the customer with half a face, and an arm twisted from some old factory injury know about what is in the coffee milk? 

The Athenaeum stays open late, you leaf through antique volumes.  The book you want is not in the main area.  It is kept in the rare books room, waiting, dark and silent, subterranean, just waiting for you to work up the courage to ask for the key.  You touch a shelf and know you are standing in the same place that Poe once stood, and after him Lovecraft stood, and after him Kiernan stood.  What does it mean?  Are you next? 

You contemplate the pizza strip, cold pizza crust and sauce, no cheese.  What have they done with the cheese?

Who is the man with the fake graveyard for fake American soldiers in his back yard on the other side of the river?  What does he know that we do not?  What is being done about him?

The RAH-Coco’s collectibles is at an address that leads you to the end of a street that ends in a cliff.  It lies beyond the cliff, waiting, watching.

The grand Art Deco tower at Kennedy plaza is eternally dark, except for one window on the top floor, and the blue beacon that shines from the roof at night.

To get to Dusk you must cross the river through the tunnel under the mall, and pass by the endless wreckage of abandoned industry.  Is it worth it?  Is it really worth it?  But you’re already half way there and you need a drink.

In Swan Point cemetery you get lost, Tillinghast, Armitage… didn’t you see this cracked pillar next to this carved 19th century obelisque before?  Where is the Philips plot?  Where is the exit?  

Joggers run along Blackstone Blvd, what are they running from, and where do they go at night?

How long has the dim lit and raucous Irish pub been there?  Since the beginning my friend, since before that.

You take a walk along Allens Ave, past pink lit strip clubs and piles of scrap metal, looking up at the vast coastal sky.  Is it looking back?  Who can say.

It is in Rhode Island, the smallest state and yet you can’t quite remember the last time you went beyond the city limits.

You know what?  Fuck it.  We’re talking about Providence.  We don’t need to say anything else, this is an exercise in redundancy because we’re talking about the city of Providence Rhode Island.  It’s too gothic for the gothic meme.  We win, everyone else can pack it in.

That’s it.

We’re done. Go home.