Mariners in the mist can’t find their way home, lose 4-5 to Mets

I love the Gothic sensibility. Not little-g goth like ‘00s mall goths, but capital-G Gothic like madwomen in the attic, spooky castles and country estates, a suspension of time that blurs the waking world and dreamland; terror and wonder existing side-by-side. Always the weather in a Gothic novel is lousy, rain and howling wind, maybe the occasional lightning-blasted tree stump or foreboding (and foreshadowing) rock overlooking a precipitous fall. The weather in a Gothic novel says something bad is about to happen here.

(I’m cheating.