This photo is in the bathroom stall at a Mexican restaurant
I frequent. I need to make myself one like this. Plumes + stars!

I wish the photo showed it better, but is this not totally amazing?
I love how much happier and natural she looks in boy drag.

Who was she? Her royal witchness. Look at those plaits!

Anyone know where these Sphinxes are, or if they
still exist? ‘Til the sphinx winks, she said. Questions
for the Southern Oracles, eh? I have some too.

“By the Sad Sea Waves, Sam found a chicken!”

This kitty toy was found in Rome by Mr. Bruce Lee Webb,
of Waxahachie, Texas. I could play with it endlessly, but
really oughtn’t as it’s quite old, and for sale. I made a video
instead, so I could enjoy it always. Next best thing!

What is America? What is it to be an American?
It’s very complicated. It’s one of those words that used
to mean something pretty good, but now is embarrassing
to admit to, like identifying yourself as a poet, or as bisexual.
There are so many lousy ones out there – they’ve given any
of the good ones such lame reputations that you’d never
advertise it unless you were completely oblivious.
My first instinct (especially when traveling outside my
country) is to be ashamed. I feel shamed by my privilege,
by the brashness and bravado I’m expected to walk with,
the obliviousness to the rest of the world, the narrowness,
the pride and patriotism for a place that has continually
screwed over its inhabitants (and neighbors). A country
of invaders and immigrants that forgot how they got here,
forgot what it might have been like for their ancestors,
who were not born here. There is wonder here, as well:
though it is fast disappearing. Carl Sandburg’s corn fairies
are being buried by the run-off from gated developments
that no-one will ever live in. The potato farmers won’t
eat their own crop, because they know it’s all poisoned.
The little desolate towns call to me, Detroit’s hulking
shells of former grandeur groan entreaties to come visit
while they can still stand. I want to see the Gulf of Mexico
again before it all turns bloody, I want to climb the mountains
of Appalachia before they all get their tops blown off.
There’s a lot on those backroads I intend to see before
it’s gone. So much of a way of life, that for a little while
was such a treasure. It wasn’t here for very long.
Firefly season gets shorter and shorter on this side of the Rockies.

That being said, I’m still a sucker for almost any holiday.
I like the ritual celebration. I like costumes, and wish people
still made gown and crowns with crepe-paper stars. I like
summertime, and hot-dogs with sauerkraut and fireworks.

I think these four bleak black and white found photographs
from Square America say it best for me. Awkward, silly
yet darkly beautiful. Ordinary, extraordinary. So many
of the photos collected at Square America capture that.
So much of our real story is told in what remains afterwards,
the ephemera, the much-repaired feed-sack dress, the iron.
When it’s completed, the compendium from the wondrous
curator will give anyone a solid overview of who were were,
and how we came to get here. There are hard things to see
there, violent things that make you wonder how anyone could
see them and still hold a camera steady. There are beautiful
things too, sweet scenes of people and places that only exist
in now in those little frames. Just the table of contents and the
names of the chapters alone make me thrilled to see the entirety.
They read like the song titles from a Tom Waits album, or maybe
shades of Cormac McCarthy. Go and see, see where we came from:

This Is My Country: An Epic Survey, Rendered In Photographs,
Home Movies, Audio Recordings, And Other Assorted Ephemera,
Of Everyday Life In These United States And Of The Ways And
Customs Of The American People c.1900-c.1976 (A Work In Progress)

Book I: The Old World (1900-1946)
The Aeronauts Dream, How the West Should Have been Won,
Westward the Course of Empire Takes Its Way, The Frogman of Chicago,
On Grandma’s Porch, The Dance Lesson, The Girls of Summer, Dramatis
Personae, My Days at Illinois, In Aurora, The Great War, A Letter, Great
Northern, A Trip to the Shore, Lady Earl Stops for Milk, Queens of the World,
Spring, Crying Holy unto the Lord, On A Darkling Plain, The Scavengers,
A Trip to the Fair, A Bike Ride, The Kiss, G-Men, We’re in the Army
(and the Navy) Now, The Home Front, Our Lady of the Pacific,
Once More unto the Breach, The Soldier’s Dream, The Voice
of Your Man In Service, May 8th, 1945, V For Victory,
What We Brought Home from the War

Book II: On the Ways and Customs of the American People
African-American Photobooth & Small Studio Photographs,
Smoke, Fire, Drink, Drunk, A Brief Reminder of an Unpleasant Reality,
La Violence Américaine, Ambiguous Evidence: Heaven in a Shotgun Shell,
Ambiguous Evidence II: Blood, Hair on Tractor, Scrap Girls, The Cooper’s Dream,
Lift & Carry, Up in the Old Hotel, The Dispatchers, Play Ball, The Gridiron,
The Sweet Science, In the Bathroom, A Brief History of Laughter.

Book III: The Land and What We Put Upon It
The Ghosts of Vegetation, The Farmer’s Dream, The Crop Duster’s Dream,
We Cast Our Dreams in Chrome and Steel, The Grid, At the End of the Mechanical Age

Book IV: The New World (1947-1976)
Paul of Nazareth, Bakersfield by Night, To Ruben & Other Stories,
The Road Barons, The In Crowd, Race, The Also-Rans, Here Am I,
Your Special Island, Memorial Day, At the Ball, Down in the Basement,
In the Neightborhood, 51% of Everything, The Promised Land.

Epilogue: Of Being Numerous

Required reading for the holiday:
The Air-Conditioned Nightmare – By Henry Miller

Woman with Cross and Skull
19th c. – Qajar period, Iran
Opaque watercolor and gold on paper

Mistick Krewe of Comus float design, by Jennie Wilde — 1910
(see link below for the full set!)

(Any idea about who painted this? Tin Eye was stumped.
I traced it back toblessedwildapplegirl but the buck stopped there.)

✸ Bibiodyssey’s post on vintage Mardi Gras Designs
Mistick Krewe of Comus 1910 float designs
of float design drawings by Jennie Wilde
browse them all at the Louisiana Research Collection
I remember at French Quarter Postal Emporium they used to sell little postcard books of these.
I was always too broke to buy them, so would look at them when standing in line waiting to mail
my parcels, much to the chagrin of the fussy queens who worked there.

✸ I think I’ve mentioned my love for Shirley & Spinoza Radio before,
but it’s been awhile. I had forgotten how much I loved them. How could I?
They play the best, oddest and most obscure scraps of brilliance ever.

✸ Academy Award-nominated actress and Austin artist Susan Tyrrell loves sex, fags and gangsta rap.
Hooray for Susu Tyrrell, and hooray for my friend Chris Apollo Lynn, who interviewed her.

This article on the temptation of memory engineering is extremely absorbing:
✸ Removable Truths – A memory expert’s indestructible past.
By William Saletan
Reading it has made me fixate on our fallible and flexible memories. I recently
had an odd experience, where I realized that I had vividly remembered something
(the color, make and model of a friend’s car) that turned out to be wildly inaccurate.
It’s disturbing to think about, really. How could I remember it to be a burgundy Chevy
hoopty when it was really a white Mercedes diesel? I guess it was dark, and I was very
distracted – but really? That’s kind of a huge discrepancy. I was shocked to discover it.
Thanks to William Gibson for recommending this article, among many other things-
and speaking of, for the following recommendations as well:

✸ William Gibson’s favorite science fiction novels
I haven’t read a single one of these, though Wiley Wiggins did try to foist
Dhalgren on me years ago. Gibson says, “It won’t work unless you can allow
it to become your head for a few weeks; it helps if you’re rather young.” I think
I was too jaded by that point to really get into it. I’d discovered early on what my
bag was as far as science fiction went, from devouring my dad’s 70′s pulp paperbacks.
I tend not to dig anything where the characters are named Zorn or live on planet Xerzon.
The incredible images on the covers definitely made a huge impression on me, though.
I think I’ll need to see if my pops has any of the books on that list, and get my summer
space-sorceror escapist thing going. How about you? Got any favorite science fiction
I need to read? Lay it on me. We’re getting a new hammock tomorrow, so I need book-fuel!

✸ I just went on a bookspree and snatched up seven new books
but I absolutely must get this one next – it looks amazing:
CYCLONOPEDIA – Complicity with Anonymous Materials
By Reza Negarestani

“An American woman arrives in Istanbul to meet a pseudonymous
online acquaintance who never arrives. Discovering a strange manuscript in her hotel room,
she follows up its cryptic clues only to discover more plot-holes, and begins to wonder whether
her friend was a fictional quantity all along. Meanwhile, as the War on Terror escalates, the US
is dragged into an asymmetrical engagement with occultures whose principles are ancient, obscure,
and saturated in oil. It is as if war itself is feeding upon the warmachines, leveling cities into the desert,
seducing the aggressors into the dark heart of oil …

At once a horror fiction, a work of speculative theology, an atlas of demonology, a political samizdat
and a philosophic grimoire, Cyclonopedia is work of theory-fiction on the Middle East, where horror
is restlessly heaped upon horror. Reza Negarestani bridges the appalling vistas of contemporary world
politics and the War on Terror with the archeologies of the Middle East and the natural history of the Earth
itself. Cyclonopedia is a middle-eastern Odyssey, populated by archeologists, jihadis, oil smugglers,
Delta Force officers, heresiarchs, corpses of ancient gods and other puppets. The journey to the Underworld
begins with petroleum basins and the rotting Sun, continuing along the tentacled pipelines of oil, and at last
unfolding in the desert, where monotheism meets the Earth’s tarry dreams of insurrection against the Sun.”

✸ Burkas and Birkins -
I Watched 146 Minutes of Sex and the City 2 and All I Got Was This Religious Fundamentalism by Lindy West
This is so goddamn hilarious – and I’m so grateful to Lindy for seeing this awful bit o’ tripe
so I don’t have to! I still have never seen even one episode of that show, and an entire film
based on it sounds completely intolerable. I do love pretty frippery and all, but whoa. Scary!

✸ Pamela Colman Smith’s Russian Ballet
Pixie Smith is my number one magicienne inspiration.
She’s at the head of the invite list for my fantasy seance
dinner party, along with Joseph Cornell, Edward Gorey,
Louise Brooks, Vali Myers, and Austin Osman Spare.
Who would you invite to yours?

✸ Why are the East of Cities usually Poorer?
(via the always kick-ass from Brainpickings)
Interesting! I’d always wondered about this.

✸ Honeybee death mystery deepens
Colony collapse disorder linked to mix of fungal and viral infections.
A good article with actual information rather than hysteria. Don’t get me
wrong – I am worried about the bees every day, but having any clues as
to what is actually ailing them is the only way we can setting about changing
that. I can’t wait for the day when I can start to set up my hives. Honey magic!

✸ Post Pridematic Stress Syndrome – Shaking out Austin’s weekend of Pride
Here’s the run-down of articles, info and tantalizing tidbits from Pride,
including the entire text of Silky Shoemaker’s stunning speech at Queerbomb!

My dear friend Ooops is an amazing aerial artist who recently choreographed
and performed this piece as an homage to our friend Noah Vasilchek.
With Niki Frisky as her deer-twin, and the inimitable Chris Lane as emcee, and a bunch of
rowdies at One Eyed Jacks hootin’ and hollerin’. This is one of my favorite aerial performances, ever.

That’s what’s floatin’ around the rusty brainpan of late!
If you’ve got any suggestions for books/music/art/culture/information
that I need to know about, drop me a line on my tin can telephone.
I’ll be hanging out with the reading in my cave by the river with the
skulls of obscure saints to keep me company. Passenger pigeons
or smoke signals are accepted also, and if you travel in dreams,
come say hello. I get around most nights, more than I would’ve
guessed – but judging from how often I seem to pop up in the
dreams of friends and future friends, it seems I’m a nightly roamer.

(This photo and the one below both from Fecal Face)

Achtung all me New Yorkian lovelies! There’s only a few more days to catch Monica Canilao’s
gorgeous solo show We Are Dust, at Cinders Gallery in Brooklyn. I am so filled with distaste
for the typical sterile white box gallery, and seeing what Monica has done with the free reign
to transform a space so completely is really inspiring. I love the warmth and intimacy, and the
sense of wandering around inside the artist’s brain. The entire gallery is an installation, rather
than a soulless room created to house individual pieces. I hope to see more shows like this in
the future, and more galleries that are willing to step out of the glorified white cubicles we’ve
become so accustomed to. I feel that art is most effective and affecting when the environment
it’s presented in is created to compliment it, harmonize with it, or as a cohesive part of the whole
experience. I so wish I could be there to see this show, so if you are able, please do go in my stead!

The show is only up until May 30th, so go see it now now now!

This is Monica! (Photo by Faythe Levine)

Also, check out photos of Monica’s Oakland studio –
THROW MORE FACES ON THE FIRE from one of my favorite photographers, Tod Seelie

✸ La Veuve – Paris Gawks Again at the Guillotine
“The artful mayhem — images of severed heads, amputated body parts,
pale blue corpses and damsels with blood on their hands and daggers —
is drawing up to 4,000 people a day, nearly double the usual traffic for special exhibitions. ”

✸ What Every Girl Should Know – About Birth Control
Hop to it, y’all.

✸ Go Ask Ogre, by Jolene Siana (via Lesley Arfin)
I need this book! Jolene Siana wrote letters to Nivek Ogre of Skinny Puppy for nine years, and he read and kept
every single one (doesn’t that just make your inner 14 year old goth girl just MELT?) and one day he mailed them
all back to her in a big box! Holy cats! So she published them all, and I can’t wait to read it and re-live all my own
angsty, black-hearted teenage moments. Did you ever write fan letters to anyone and actually send them?
Did you get a response? I wrote to Francesca Lia Block when I was 17 and lonesome and pregnant in Los Angeles,
and she wrote me back! She’s a life-saver, that lady. I don’t think I ever wrote to anyone else, unless I just scrawled
a little note of thanks and handed it to them. Actually, come to think of it, I handed Francesca my letter at a reading.
I almost feel like people hardly even have mailing addresses anymore. It’s a pity, because tangible letters are so
magical. What will the biographers of the future do? Archive our emails? Lordy, how ridiculous. What a silly world.

Okay, so I know Paris is Burning is sacred, and totally perfect on its own (I hear you, Tara-baby!)
but I am really loving this Crystal Castles appropriation of PiB’s singular magic. This film changed
my life, literally. My dad raised me, and these queens taught me how to be the kind of woman I
wanted to become. I’m completely serious. This is why I often look like a drag queen. Toning it
down to the level I’m at now has taken me YEARS! I still view feminine trappings as drag (and they are!)

✸ Austin Fights! My friend Miguel Angel (uLOVEi) has a new blog of his candid photos
taken during random downtown throwdowns . It’s totally hilarious Weegee-esque shots of
drunken mayhem and bloodthirsty zombie hipsters rolling in the road! It’s the funniest part
of going downtown, viewable from the safety and comfort of your own home. Miguel dodges
the PBR cans and swinging fists so you don’t have to! I can’t help it – I’m always amused by
a street brawl, unless it’s a bashing or super uneven battle. Here’s hoping he gets a catfight soon!

✸ I’m adoring Sighs and Whispers very, very much lately –
how could I not, when she shows me things like Twiggy on the Mermaid Trail
and Daria: Glitter Girl? Utter swoon.

✸ Thirteen words not found in the English language: from Rima at the Hermitage
Some of my favorites:
1. Waldeinsamkeit (German): the feeling of being alone in the woods
5. Esprit de l’escalier (French): a witty remark that occurs to you too late,
literally on the way down the stairs…
6. Meraki (Greek): doing something with soul, creativity, or love
10. Pochemuchka (Russian): a person who asks a lot of questions
11. Tingo (Pascuense language of Easter Island): to borrow objects
one by one from a neighbour’s house until there is nothing left

✸ Strangely Familiar:
Acrobats, Athletes, and Other Traveling Troupes photographs by Michal Chelbin
“Michal Chelbin chooses subjects straight out of our myths and fairytales:
acrobats, ballet dancers, dwarves and athletes. But the people who appear
in this beautiful photobook are far from the enchanted, sequin-spangled stars
of our imagination – these are hard-working performers from small towns,
little-known troupes, and marginalized communities. They’re vulnerable –
we glimpse smears of blood, sweat, bandages, bare feet and scratched chests.
The look in the eyes of even the tiniest (so small she can stand in the palm of a hand)
is world-weary, knowing, and oddly wise.”
– from Lensculture – Photography and Shared Territories

✸ Chinese Boy Has 31 Fingers And Toes
I find his digits very beautiful, and I’m quite jealous. I’ve always wished I had a few extra.

✸ Jonathan Harris photographs Eyjafjallajökull
“That suicide water.
That gurgling ash.
That crazy light.
That neon moss.”

✸ Miss Amy Earles was featured in the LA Weekly’s Art Blog!
Cute Freaky Nurses: Paper Dolls by Amy Earles Go girl!

✸ Mr. Clayton Cubitt raped my tender brainpan with this:
Jaron Albertin – My Dark Horse (and to think it was my reward
for being the only un-tattooed person in Austin. Time to get some ink!)

✸ Patti Smith is People Too! This is best thing ever.
Why can’t it still be the 70′s? This could never, ever happen nowadays.

✸ Stars above, y’all – the new Cocorosie is so mind-bogglingly fantastic!
I’ve been listening to it non-stop while I’ve composed this, and know already
that I’ll be listening to little else for the rest of these warm, insomniac nights.
I become completely nocturnal once the weather gets hot – fruitbats ahoy!
It would be perfect if I wasn’t supposed to be somewhere in the morning,
alas. Anyhow, go get Grey Oceans right his minute and stay up late with me.

✸ By the way, it’s been one month today that the BP Oil Disaster has been
spewing millions upon millions of gallons into the ocean. In case you
weren’t sure about what that means: WE ARE FUCKED. All of us -
not just the poor fisherman, not just the oily birds and the fishes,
not just the coast, but every single one of us. The repercussions
from this are going to ripple out and clobber us in ways we can
barely fathom right now, I feel it. I’m sorry to belabor a point,
but I can’t stop thinking about it, and my heart has been bearing
a deep sorrow every day since this happened. It’s been a rough
couple of weeks in general, really. I think I’d like to spend the
summer hiding in caves behind waterfalls. Care to join me?

Alright, darlings – that’s what I’ve got for you tonight. Anything divine I ought to be looking at, listening to,
reading, watching, drooling over or thinking about? Do tell, I need the cheering! Here’s hoping your weekend
is filled with long, aimless walks, sincere conversations, silvery pegasus-zebra hybrids and heaps of blue hydrangeas!

It’s time for AZZ EVERYWHERE #2!
This time we’re bringing…wait for it…

BIG FREEDIA!
The Queen Diva!
The Late Night Creepa!
The Dick-Eata!
You betta Beleeeva!

Straight Outta New Orleans –
That Girl gonna make your booty go!
Are you ready to show her what you learned in bounce class,
or from your friends who went?
We’re gonna twerk it all night with
DJ Rusty Lazer + DJ Chicken Kiev
spinning the best NOLA Bounce music for you
to get all sweaty and nasty to!
Plus new & devastatingly gorgeous
Aerial Performance by
Miss Marion Ette of Mystic Pony from New Orleans!
Hostessed AND Mostessed by the lovely Miss Angeliska!
ALSO! Amazingtown-super-hyper-killer projection magic
from Miz Lau-Lau of the Recspec! She blew our eyeballs inside out
last time, and she’s gonna do it again! Wear your safety glasses!
Thursday, May 13th – 10pm-4am
$7 at the door – at The ND 501 Brushy + East 5th
See you there!

This was, without a doubt Christeene‘s most spectacular performance to date!

She and her dancers killed it, utterly. It’s like if G.G. Allin had a nasty tranny
sister-baby-lady-man that lived on the streets with her sweaty + hairy antlered
panda-men! You really have to see her in action to fully understand, and I hope
you get the pleasure sometime soon! You might have to take a shower after.

Cute Azzzzz!

Oh Elaine! What a beautiful laughing, dancing magic woman she is!

Amelia and Penny lookin’ fine

Miss Marion Ette doing her first routine – beautiful aerial dancer!
Her second piece was done to Ice Cream Paint Job! So freakin’ cute!

Miss Altercation taught an amazing bounce dance class before the show,
she’s such a pro – I can’t wait for her to come back here and teach us more!

See more photos from the first Azz Everywhere here:
AZZ EVERYWHERE!

and also photos from The Peen Scene:
Azz Everywhere at The Independent

(drawing by Brad Neely)

I used to work at Toy Joy, (the best toy store in the world).
So did Brad Neely, though he left a few months before
I started, so we never met. I came to adore him through these amazing signs
and doodles he left in his wake. This sign endorsing the hobby of vampire
dog-massage was hung up by the false mustaches. I have no idea what it
was originally meant to promote, but it’s one of my favorite things ever.
If you’re not familiar with his genius, go check out his work and this:

When I was in middle-school, I lived in a neighborhood with
lots of trailer-trash dogs. Mean, embittered Rotties and Chows
hell-bent on getting a taste of teenage ankle. We’d sneak out
late at night and walk around aimlessly, smoking and vandalizing
things and they were the monsters we skirted. They’d freak us out
by barking ferociously, alerting all to the fact that we were shimmying
out of our bedroom windows. Being chased by a dog while riding a
bike is one of the scariest things ever. I only got bit by a dog once, and
I guess it was sort of my fault. I got off the school bus one day, and this
little kid with a kool-aid and BBQ-sauce mottled face invited me to peer
under his trailer to see his new puppies. The protective mama mutt bolted
out from the shadows like a pudgy arrow and attached herself to my leg,
ripping my dad’s ugly green corduroy pants I’d taken to wearing everyday.
(I was in that adolescent phase of wearing your dad’s oversized, ugly old
clothes and being incredibly awkward. Remember that?) It left a nasty bruise
and some punctures, and taught me something about not messing with wild
mamas and their young. Years later, I found myself in New York working for
a few months. There was a period of time during my stay there that I felt
incredibly isolated and cut-off from my fellow humans. I was unused to the
lack of eye-contact and greeting that big city folk tend to protect their souls
with. I’m from the South, and we say hello when we pass you on the street.
Everybody had their walls up to me except for the street-people and the dogs.
The dogs were always happy to see me, eager to smell me and get to know me
whilst their owners would tug at leashes and roll their eyes, in a hurry to get on
with the business of walking. My feelings about dogs were changing, and I
began to respect and appreciate them in a way that I never really had.

This is me with Dougal and Selma the Sideshow dogs and constant
companions of Harry and Elizabeth Anderson. I liked it when people misheard Dougal’s
name as “Doodles”, so that’s what I called him. They would get so excited
to see me that they would pee a little bit. Now, that’s enthusiasm!

This illustration by Marjorie Moore reminds me of Grrizelda and I.
I’d been a cat person my whole life, but after my best cat-friend
Junior died after 21 years of companionship, I just don’t know
that I will find that kind of connection again. Don’t get me wrong -
I love our kitties Loki and Rusty Jack-knife (except when they’re
doing very evil things like knocking in the ceiling and slaughtering
baby birds) I never imagined I would have that kind of deep
bond with a canine. I never had a dog of my very own before, and
it’s pretty intense. It’s a bit like having a furry child that can’t really speak.
I am so grateful for the love and loyalty our dogs give us – I wish we could
go to the pound and adopt 20 more. One day. Walk out in the woods with
your dog, or be with them late at night when you’re alone in the house.
If they’re worth a damn, they will always let you know when they smell or
hear something that we can’t. Even the littlest dog will throw themselves
at a much bigger opponent to protect the one they love. That’s so amazing
to me, and such an inspiration. I’ve been thinking a lot about the way that
humans and animals can transfer love and healing to each other – have
you experienced that before? Whether it’s your cat making biscuits of ecstasy
on you, and purring like a motor or your dog wagging and dancing in
apoplectic spasms of joy to see you come home, I feel that there’s something
deeper going on there. I’m really interested in the beneficial effects of spending
time with animals for the ill and elderly. Have you heard about these studies on
dogs sniffing out cancer? Amazing. I think they make us better people. I hope so.

Also, sometimes you can dress them up as elephants! My dog lets me floss
her teeth. Can you believe that? I barely can. We’ve been training her to be
patient and tolerant of bathing, foot-handling and now maybe even
tooth-brushing? (Okay, I just tried it, and she totally let me brush her teeth!
Best dog ever!) Something else I just thought of — dogs in other cities are
different. On Lamma Island in Hong Kong, all the dogs I encountered were
totally indifferent to me. They ran in dirty packs of smallish scrappers, similar
to the curs of Mexico, though the Mexican beach dogs are far friendlier.
We had a pack adopt us in Tulum, and their leader, El Jackalito even
followed us to a neighboring village. French dogs seemed quite snobby
to me (though I found the people I met in France to be very sweet and
personable!) What can you tell me about the dogs of the world? Do you
like dogs? Do you have a dog of your own? Tell me a dog story, please!

Oh, and I was just alerted to this:
Antique Pups from Teenangster
(Thank you Oola!)

Further reading:
Dog Days
Corazones quebrados y perros ciegos

1. halloween, by Annie Alonzi, 2. flowers, by Annie Alonzi, 3. Moth Mask, by Jhaan,
4. remember this by Annie Alonzi, 5. thanksgiving, by Annie Alonzi,
6. rare, by Annie Alonzi, 7. Untitled, by Lady Havisham, 8. Old Curiosities, by Lady Havisham,
9. close, by Annie Alonzi, 10. breakfasttime, by Annie Alonzi, 11. shadow, by Amy Earles,
12. Scar’s room, by Nadya Lev, 13. 32, by Nadya Lev, 14. [unknown], by Renee Dhoa,
15. front window, by Tamera Ferro, 16. Saw Whet on the Moss, by Big Brother Bear

As you can see, it’s most artwork by friends – particularly that of my
very dear friend Miss Annie Alonzi. She is amazing. I think she might
have revealed her true nature in the upper left hand photo, which I
am seriously obsessed with staring at. It makes me want to only dress
as beasts from now on. Not in like, a furry way. I guess. Um. Yeah,
anyways! Her artwork is extremely gorgeous, and she makes me
very happy all the time. Also, she has a friend named Soda Pies.

I think this week’s honeyed round-up is all about wild things,
forgotten places and people. I have long held a deep fascination
with feral children, raised by animals or no one at all. It all started
with Genie, for me, years and years ago. I need to write about her
properly and also show you the amazing doll Pandora made for my
birthday last year. She’s almost too special to share, but I think it’s
important, so I will – eventually. Back in New Orleans, in 2002, we
were doing our big Dada Balls. As hostess for each one, I would
build a character, and inhabit that persona for the entire night.
Who knew that the most difficult one would be the Feral Child?
I had hoped, that by embodying this wild being, that professors
and nurses would emerge – that I would encounter those who
would want to teach me, tame me, civilize me. Oh no. That was
not the case at all! No doubt, I was exasperating – scampering
over the tables. Wordless, howling, scratching, stealing things
and all – but I really imagined that some kind soul would take
me in hand and try and at least teach me language, or manners.
Mostly, I was treated like a bad dog. I didn’t speak a word all night,
and it was quite an experience. I recommend simulated lycanthropy
as an experiment for everyone, but just maybe not at a wild party
like I did. Especially not if there are raging rednecks who threaten
to knock your jaw in for lapping up their whiskey and getting your
muddy footprints all over the bar. A word to the wise, civilize!

Me as a girl raised by wolves.

Feral forever!

★ Eva Hornung has a new novel out, entitled Dog Boy,
that I am very curious to read. A review and excerpt are here:
‘Dog Boy’: The Complicated Humanity Of A Wild Child
(via Odette O.)

★ I adore thisCanadian insect collector who eats his specimens
Georges Brossard: “I dream about them, I eat them – I love bugs”
(also via Odette O, with thanks!)

★ Have you ever seen the mysterious olm?
Here’s some footage of the olm, a blind salamander
that lives in the Balkan caves. (via le Curio Cabinet)

★ Jugend, 1899 – you want to know what does it for me?
Symbolist magazine illustrations, that’s what.

★ A happy new blogly/photo/local-lady discovery: Search and Smoke

★ Atlas Obscura is the best thing ever, if you love traveling and exploring
the most bizarre and amazing places, that is. Even if you’re not in position
to travel anytime soon, you almost feel like you have after you spend awhile
perusing the wonders they have found for us. Lots of strange and wondrous
abandoned places! Such as: the once luxurious abandoned Prince’s house
in Abkhazia, and an entire island off of Japan, once densely populated
now abandoned – Gunkanjima Island. There’s also this very sad place,
Oradour – a French ghost town from World War II,
left as a memorial to German atrocities

★ “People talk in private about their dreams dying right now
due to economic contraction. But few will talk publicly.”
Arthur Magazine has an interesting article about talking openly
about the recession: DOES IT HURT? by Jay Babcock

★ One the other end of that spectrum, I want every single thing
on Gala’s Current Crushes Shopping List. Just so you know.

★ Oh my goodness, look at this uncovered gem:

Tom Waits on Fernwood Tonight in the late 1970′s
(via brainpicker extraordinaire, Maria Popova)
I just have to say: holy goddamn moly, Tom –
what a beautiful man you are! Look at those
gorgeous long fingers! He just kills me.

Just at the point when we were all about to throw ourselves down
on the floor and throw a great big tantrum about the perversely long,
bitter-ass winter we’ve suffered, Spring steps in – gracefully beckoning
with tender green tendrils and heaving humid sighs on our skins newly
shorn of sweaters and leggings. We wonder what the hell to wear, and
shun the indoors, feeling newly hatched, bald and bewildered by the
softer air. Can I tell you how deluxe it is to plunge my hands in the earth
and wake up the very excellent worms that dwell there? It is very deluxe
indeed. Oh yes. I realize fully the extent of my winter puniness, but I am
not meant to freeze. My nose turns bright red, embarrassingly. I sniffle
and shuffle and clutch at tea-mugs and hide in bed. I become a strange
white grub, or cave-dwelling salamander. Not that come summer, I brown
in any significant way. I wonder what that would be like. Very perplexed
by the summer wardrobe. I think I might incorporate loads of black lace.

Our nectarine tree is so beautiful. The peach trees are blooming too.

On that tip, I was featured in a collection of pale Texan ladies that made
me proud of my pallor – Let’s make pasty hot. , compiled by Miss Tolly Moseley,
(aka. That Austin Girl) who is a super-sweet red-headed dynamo
who makes me cackle at stories from childhood summer camp,
pictures of her dad in drag, and her obsession with John Travolta.

My friend Annie Alonzi made this dress especially for me –
it was commissioned by my sweetheart, as an anniversary gift.

So sweet! I’m trying to get better about documenting my ensembles.
It’s pretty touch and go, since I usually don’t have much time when the
light’s good. Now that the days are longer, I hope to remedy that!

Golden-eyed Gala at Barton Springs, brandishing her wee friend.

The ever-adorable Gala Darling interviewed me in a style profile
for Chinashop Magazine – the first of many more, I hope, as I’ve found that
I discover a lot about myself when I take the time to answer questions. It kind of
forces me to articulate notions that otherwise just float around my brain like seaweed.
Perhaps it’s quite narcissistic, but I love being interviewed about almost anything!
I didn’t jump on the Formspring wagon, though – for various reasons, though I’m
sure it would be interesting. I love interviewing people as well – I’m a curious lady,
and I appreciate curiosity in others. As far as personal style goes, mine is going
through quite a transformation, so exploring it and nailing it down a little more
is helping me solidify where I’m going. Fashion experiments are going down, y’all!

A full SXSW rundown is coming, but in the meantime let’s just say that the city was
over-run with fancy ladies during this last week! Gala, Molly Crabapple, Anja Verdugo
of Clever Nettle and Miss Tina of Violetville Vintage were all in Austin, and most were
in attendance for Amelia’s fancy teaparty – oh, what lovely and convivial company!
Evidence:

The Birdy Teacup Teaparty

HOW TO THROW A VINTAGE TEA PARTY!

Sunset over Barton Springs, at the tail end of a gorgeous day featuring puppies,
beautiful music, good friends, fresh juice and much magic. Pretty damn dreamy.

See also:
Tiempo de la abeja y la flor

(Photograph by K. K. Arora)
People wade through a cloud of colored powder while celebrating the Hindu festival
of Holi at Nand Gaon in the northern Indian state of Uttar Pradesh.

(Photograph by Jayanta Shaw)
A girl with a colored face reacts as she is drenched during Holi celebrations in Kolkata.

(Photograph by Utpal Baruah)
Men smeared with facepaint and colored powder pose for a picture
during Holi in the northeastern Indian city of Guwahati.
(I love the man in the middle’s gaze. His face is straight from an ancient tapestry.)

(Photograph by Babu)
Girls smeared with colored powder are splashed with colored water
as they celebrate Holi in the southern Indian city of Chennai.

(Photograph by K. K. Arora)
Artists dressed as Hindu Lord Krishna (left) and his consort Radha are showered
with rose petals during Holi celebrations in the northern Indian city of Mathura.
(Isn’t this the best? Lord Krishna’s bored to tears, and Radha’s totally annoyed
by the proliferation of petals. Hilarious! I want to be showered in rose petals!)

(Photograph by Krishnendu Halder)
A child rests inside tomato pulp as part of the celebration of Holi in Hyderabad.
(I also now want to take a tomato pulp bath now, because this kid looks so blissed out!)

Found on Boing Boing: Springtime in Bollywood (Holi He!)
More:
✷ A gray day for Phagwah in NYC – really wonderful, go see!

✷ Even Gala Darling got splashed with color!

✷ Dogseat’s New York Phagwah set on Flickr

✷ I suggest you play this song, and dance around right now! – Festival of Colors – The Creatures

Forgive the radio silence, I’ve been brewing lots of
exciting notions + tidbits in the last week to be in
evidence soonly. More than that though, my mind has
been on Haiti, and it was hard to write about my relatively
extraordinary life and all the comforts I enjoy when
I can’t stop thinking about people trapped under
piles of rubble, people still alive and alone in the
dark, hungry and afraid for their loved ones.
That’s a reality occurring simultaneously with my
own, and I can’t help but be reminded of what is
was like during Katrina. I felt so frustrated then,
at the idea of so many people blithely going on
about their regular days with nary a thought for
the trouble we were having. It’s hard, because
what else can you do? At least then, lots of people
could volunteer and help more directly. Unless you
happen to be a doctor, or a search and rescue worker
you basically have no reason to be in Haiti, taking up
resources and space. Not to be harsh, but it’s a fact -
and so, what can we do? We do whatever it is
we do when we pray, or send money and hope it gets
where it needs to. We read about it, write about it,
and plan benefits. We focus our attention and our hearts
on the suffering of the people of Haiti, and send fervent
wishes for healing and help, but it doesn’t feel like near enough.

A sequined drapeau for the Guede. Something happens to the fabric of the
world when so many people leave it all at once. It creates a hole, a passage
leading somewhere else. Sometimes we can hear their voices calling.

More than anything almost, after the hurricane I just wanted to know
that the people I encountered were aware, and gave a shit about what
had happened in New Orleans and Mississippi (not to mention the rest
of the world!) New Orleans and Haiti have long had a link. I just learned
(through Poppy Z. Brite, natch) that “in spite of being the poorest nation
in the Caribbean, Haiti donated $40,000 to New Orleans after the federal
levees broke”. Think about that for a minute. This is money coming from
a country that gets the brunt of every hurricane that even glances in NOLA’s
direction. For additional (though non-sequitur) perspective, did you know
that New Orleans mayoral candidate Manny Chevrolet’s campaign slogan is:
“a troubled man for troubled times”? Indeed. (Thanks to K. Hersh for that gem.)
Okay, one more thing, from Mr. Jeff Shyman, owner and guide for Confederacy
of Cruisers bike tours: “If you decide to donate to help out the disaster in Haiti,
remember it was a Haitian immigrant, Antoine Peychaud,
who upon moving to New Orleans, concocted and served
America’s very first cocktail using cognac and his families bitters.
The Sazerac, which he sold in the gambling room behind his pharmacy
at 437 royal street. We all owe a little to Haiti for that alone.”
If you go out tonight, raise a glass to the ghost of Antoine Peychaud,
and all the people of Haiti and send them hope and good thoughts
(and money, if you haven’t already! I know we don’t really have it,
but really – we probably do. I vote for Doctors Without Borders as
being the best choice for doing the most good with it. Please.)

Another beautiful drapeau, artist unknown.

Certainly though, there are lots of worthy and helpful charities
doing good work. Make sure you do the research though, as
a lot of the money donated get tied up in administrative costs.
Here are some links to further reading and charity info:

Haiti in Ink and Tears: A Literary Sampler

New Orleans’ Heart is in Haiti

Why Haiti is not New Orleans

Haiti and American Colonialism : The Story Behind the Story

Molly Crabapple has been auctioning her drawings of tarsiers
and pangolins and is sending 100% of the proceeds to Haiti.

Christopher Porché West’s photographs of HAITI

Haitian Earthquake Relief

Haiti: Some Ways You Can Help

Prions pour Haïti!