✸ One of my favorite films ever, I Am Dina, is available for your viewing pleasure
on Hulu right now, and though it’s not the ideal medium to watch something so
incredibly beautiful and powerful – it’s free! Also, I’m not sure that this film is at
all available widely (I had to order my DVD from Canada when it came out)
and that’s a damn shame, because it really is so wonderful. I came across some
information about it before it was ever released in the States, and managed to
catch it at a movie theatre when my Grandfather and I were in Copenhagen.
It just happened to be showing at a little art-house a few doors down from our
hotel (across from Tivoli Gardens!) So, it was everything I had hoped for and more:
a gorgeous, sweeping period drama set in Norway at the turn of the century
with wolf-wild, filthy snarling half-orphans, tragic deaths, cellos, and incredible
cinematography, set and costume design. The casting is superb, from Gérard Depardieu
to Maria Bonnevie (who I loved in the role of Dina). Not only that, but two of my favorite
actors, Christopher Eccleston and Hans Matheson have roles as a foxy Russian anarchist,
and sexy stableboy, respectively. Swoon. If you’ve ever wanted to ask me about my who
my dreamboat crushes are, well there you go. Also, Ralph Fiennes and Tilda Swinton.
So now you know, just in case you wanted to send me a singing telegram from any of
those people. Right. So – I went right out to a bookstore after we saw the film and bought
two of the trilogy that inspired the film, by Herbjørg Wassmo. Sadly, these are hard to find
in the States as well, and my copies were lent out and lost – so if anyone in Scandinavia
would be willing to send me English translations of Lykkens sønn or Karnas arv (which
I don’t even think was ever translated, actually. Damn it.) I’d be so grateful! Let me know!

✸ Rima Staines of The Hermitage recently made a fantastic post about
Old Women Who Paint On Their Walls. These magic self-taught crones
channel their passion, fears, hopes and joy into maniacally beautiful
paintings that cover their homes from floor to ceiling. The remind me
a bit of Nita and Zita, the burlesque acrobats from New Orleans. Their
house on Dauphine Street was painted everywhere too! Nita and Zita
are my patron saints, and number one fashion and lifestyle inspirations.

“What fascinates me about these women is the obsessiveness in their painting.
Perhaps because they’ve kept a lid on their creativity all their lives, and it boils
over dramatically in their later years, we see wild, imaginative, otherworldly art
produced lavishly beyond the boundaries. There is a difference about it.
But the interesting thing is that it is not “Art” but paintings, all over the walls
of these women’s houses. This transgresses any staid assumption of social
boundary – i.e. what is or is not acceptable in one’s dwelling place.
It is too much. It is mad. And it is marvellous!
They are peasant frescoes, and are utterly truly-wrought I think.”
– Rima Staines, on Old Women Who Paint On Their Walls
and
“Those works created from solitude and from pure and authentic creative impulses –
where the worries of competition, acclaim and social promotion do not interfere –
are, because of these very facts, more precious than the productions of professionals.
After a certain familiarity with these flourishings of an exalted feverishness, lived so fully
and so intensely by their authors, we cannot avoid the feeling that in relation to these works,
cultural art in its entirety appears to be the game of a futile society, a fallacious parade.”
~ Jean Dubuffet. Place à l’incivisme (Make way for Incivism).
Art and Text no.27

✸ Dagnabit, but wouldn’t you know I went and missed the Annual Coney Island
Mermaid Parade again this year? Well, Tod Seelie Suckapants was there,
and he took lots of great pictures, which you can peer at in the following sets:
GHOST-FACED AND FRIENDLY
DISAPPEAR WHEN YOU DRAW NEAR
BOW DOWN AND DIE

Also, I highly suggest you develop an addiction for his blog, because not only
does he regularly post amazing photos of my friends making art, making music,
making out, or making giant messes but he always does fun giveaways, and he
usually posts great music for you to check out. He’s introduced me to a lot of stuff
I might never had heard otherwise, including my top heavy-duty rotation summer
anthem of the moment, which is Lissie’s cover of Kid Cudi’s song Pursuit of Happiness.
It’s my get to it music right now. I’m normally not turned on by folky girls covering rap
songs ironically (barf), but this is just really good. Also, on that note – if we’re gonna
get cute, let’s not fuck around right? Who knew the Carebears were Ice Cube fans?

(Photograph by Madi Ju)

✸ I just discovered The Ladies’ Guide to the Apocalypse
tonight, purely by chance (if you believe in that!) and am blown away.
I need to go eat nachos with Summer Burkes real soon, and I think we
all need to be reading about her experiences doing cleanup in the Gulf.
Read her writing on the I Ching, and prepare to knocked on your ass.
I was just explaining what the I Ching was to someone earlier tonight,
and this makes me want to get some yarrow stalks. My dad taught me
how do it with quarters when I was 11, and though I feel far more
connected to the tarot, the hexagrams are so elegant and powerful.

✸ Welcome to East Austin! from The Hipstercrite
This is my neighborhood: sweet little alleys with junkyard dogs and magic
and also ridiculous modern condos that stick out like sore thumbs. Strange mix,
for sure – but here we are. A lot of them are just standing empty now. It’s be nice
if some families came and brought all their car parts and kids and cats and just
filled them up with life and barbecue and loud tejano on the radio. Fingers crossed!

✸ On the subject of hipsters, Alan Moore expounds on
his definition in an excellent interview in The Quietus by John Doran.

JD: “You’re proud of your status as a hipster. Do you regret
the way it’s become a disparaging, pejorative term now?

AM: Has it? Yeah, that’s probably true. It used to be a fashion statement,
but it was information as a fashion statement which is probably going to do
you more good than the clothing you wear. I got an incredible education starting
from the point at which I was thrown out of school. Now, I could probably hold my
own intellectually with most people who have had university or college educations.
And indeed some of them will have done courses on my books. So, despite the fact
my ‘education’ ended at 16, I had hipsterism, which was wanting to be hip, and that
led me to read this incredibly diverse array of books on science, mysticism, science
fiction, literature, art… I would find out about these movements that I had heard about,
and it’s given me a pretty comprehensive education. Now I am an autodidact,
which is a great word… I learned it myself.”
and this:
“Everybody is becoming [a superhero]. In the past I’ve tried to say,
‘Look, we are all crappy superheroes,’ because personal computers
and mobile phone devices are things that only Bat Man and Mr Fantastic
would have owned back in the sixties. We’ve all got this immense power
and we’re still sat at home watching pornography and buying scratch cards.
We’re rubbish, even though we are as gods. I think the idea that we can all be
superheroes if we want might still be contagious, like in V For Vendetta.
I’ve heard of urban superheroes springing up across the world.
I think there’s one in London called Angle-grinder Man…”

✸ Recently a caravan of friends went to go see Lois,
the Amorphophallus titanum blooming now at the
Houston Museum of Natural Science, but alas,
she was being shy that day! There have been quite a few blooms
here and there, and if you get the chance to experience it, you’re a lucky one
indeed. I hope at some point in my life, I will get to smell the corpse-tastic aroma!

FUNKWATCH: Corpse flower “On The Bloom”

✸ Care and Feeding of a Mermaid – superb vintage footage from 1961 (found via Miss Swissmiss)

✸ Inspired? You can make a mermaid tail of you very own! Finally!

Curious, isn’t it? It all seems very much in order with what’s going on
with me lately, though surprisingly more positive than I might’ve
anticipated. I’m glad of it! I’d be interested in any thoughts or
interpretations anyone might have on it. It seems to be a time
of flux, not only for me, but for the world in general. Times like
these, I’ll take any oracles I can get! The trick is to not consult
them compulsively, though it’s hard when you find one that
really resonates with you. Lately, I’ve been really impressed
with the work being done by Barry Perlman, and I have always
loved good old Astrodienst. Got any recommendations for me?

I am in love with our miniature orchard. The puny little peach trees
that have never grown much, are so heavily laden, they bend nearly
to the ground beneath the weight of so much fruit! Our pear trees
and the pomegranate are also getting heavy with deliciousness –
we’re waiting anxiously for them to get ripe enough to eat. This
time we don’t plan on letting them become prey for stinkbugs
or butterflies, either! Dr. Bronner’s in a hose sprayer seems to
be doing the trick so far. We have a peach cobbler in mind!

Our garden also produces fuzzy little peaches with claws,
and lots and lots of problems! Mr. Renfield Bojangles
(pronounced in the Spanish fashion, please) Whiskerwitz,
also known as Tom Tum, was found hiding from the hounds
behind the hated Nandina bushes, skinny as a bundle of rags
and sticks, with a big wormy belly. His face had been
attacked by some vile creature (maybe a possum?),
and his lower lip and chin nearly ripped off! He also
has a terrible case of ear-mites. We cleaned him up,
and he’s been recuperating and is definitely on the
mend. Of course, we’re supposed to be getting him
in better shape so that we can find him a home, but
naturally we’ve gotten very attached to him! I only
ever seem to have orange kitties – all my life, that’s
all I’ve ever had! I also tend to live with people that
have brown tabbies. Those two always end up being
paired, over and over. Anyhow, little Bojangles has
been an incredible source of solace recently – he’s
basically a living motivation poster. He is the kitten
hanging off the branch. “Hang in there!” is his motto,
all the way. I’m a big advocate of kitten or puppy therapy.
It’s pretty hard to be miserable with a cute baby animal
around, and it’s good to have something to take care
of rather than just sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.
I’ll try and post regular photos of his progress to boost morale!

Rusty Jacknife wants to devour Bojangles. We’ve decided that Jack isn’t a cat
at all, but rather a minor demon who wears an ill-fitting cat suit and has
decided to keep us company. He doesn’t even walk like a cat! Instead,
he has the lumbering gait of a fat possum. He’s so ridiculous and adorable
though, it’s hard to resist his charms – even when he does insist on coating
the velvet loveseat in my studio with a thick pelt of orange fluff! I had to put
down a towel, because it got so grody. The copy of Lula Magazine obscured
by cat-fat was a lovely gift from my dear sweet darling Chad Merritt, who will
be here in just a matter of days! I cannot wait to frolic and watch fireworks with him!

Oh how I wish this lovely hand-tinted moth print could be mine! Alas,
a photo must suffice. I want to plant more and more night-blooming
flowers to attract giant moths to our garden. I have loads of moon-flowers
seeds that never made it into the ground – I wonder if they’re still any good?

In lieu of moonflowers, we’ve got loads of angel trumpets, oh heavenly datura!
The other evening we sat transfixed, watching the huge flowers unfurl. Who
needs television when you have a garden? We even made a video of it
happening! If you are very, very patient, you might enjoy it too:

Poppy imagery has been following me everywhere – on old postcards
and pillows, and songs and in dreams especially. I dreamt I encountered
the god Narcos – he was six storey talls, swaying gray and ancient high
above me. His arms were snakes made of fire and hundreds upon hundreds
of hands. He was challenging me in a voice made of stone and centuries
of bringing sleep, numbness, dreams and death to the countless. The
poppy priestesses spoke for me, in white robes crowned with the red
and black blooms. They told of the blood pact, the monthly sacrifices
all women must make, and our calling to honor the flower, and not
the poison. They used the nectar only for healing, for bringing succor
rather than sybaritic oblivion. A boon was granted; I had their protection
and thus Narcos was rendered powerless. It was one of the most intensely
symbolic dreams I’ve had in a while, and I feel like the spirit of the plants
were speaking to me. Interesting, too because I actually cannot ingest
opiates or opiods at all. They make me so uncomfortable and ill, which
completely negates their purpose. I do love the flowers, though and I
love the dried pods. We gathered so many seeds! Also tons of arugula
and kale seeds. If anyone wants to do a seed trade, just holler.
Oh, and I just found this article about Wolfgang Stuppy, Seed Morphologist Extraordinaire!
He’s doing amazing work, and his book Seeds: Time Capsules Of Life
is really stunning. “Stuppy works in the seed conservation department at the
Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew (or Kew Gardens) in London. Kew heads up the
Millennium Seed Bank Project, an international conservation effort to collect
and store the seeds of 24,000 plants from around the world —
and the seeds of all native flora in the United Kingdom.”

“Ooh, their breath is warm,
And they smell Iike sleep
And they say they take me home -
Like poppies, heavy with seed -
They take me deeper and deeper.”
– Kate Bush, And Dream of Sheep

Our nectarine, pear and peach trees have been thickly laden with fruit,
but we got distracted and forgot to spray the fruit with soapy water.
I was shocked to discover all the pretty golden orbs covered in
sucking beetles, who drilled holes and swarmed the trees.
The leaking nectar attracted loads of butterflies who made
little tea-parties, extending their curled tongues to lick up the juice.

Obviously, I was very transfixed by them! I couldn’t stop taking pictures.

I’m hoping all of you are having a very fruitful and delightful summer solstice!
I wish we had time for some fire-leaping or corn dances or something, but
in lieu of that, how about we all watch Wicker Man again? Mer posted a
great reminder up at Coilhouse, but if you’ve never seen the whole film,
hop to that first, eh? It’s one of my all time favorites. Avoid the remake, please!

“Sumer Is Icumen In” (Wicker Man Version)

One pink flower and one blue flower – I’ve never seen such a thing!
Borage is one of my favorite herbs to grow. I just found out that the leaves taste
like cucumber! I’m going to experiment with eating them soon. The oil is good
for lady-troubles and hormonal imbalances, among other things. It’s also known as Starflower,
and comes from Syria. The flowers apparently have a sweet honey-like
taste and are one of the few truly blue-colored edible things! I had no idea Borage
is used in companion planting – it’s something I’ve been researching for a bit, but
there’s so much to learn! It is said to improve the growth of tomatoes, and also
make them taste better, and is said to repel the tomato hornworm. Likewise,
it is thought to protect or nurse legumes, spinach and brassica, and even
strawberries. Well, I need to plant Borage everywhere now, eh?

Blue Skullcap – Scutellaria lateriflora (also known as Hoodwort or Blue Pimpernel)
It’s said this this one is powerful remedy to calm the mind and prepare for meditation,
and good for strengthening the insight. It’s a ceremonial symbol of introduction
for young girls coming into womanhood, and a well known herb for the lady troubles.
It’s also a weapon against muscle spasms caused by rabies (that’s why it’s also called
Mad-Dog Weed!) Skullcap has a long history of use against insomnia, nerve pain,
anxiety, and delirium tremens. I grow the pink kind too, but this special blue one
was a gift from a magical elf gardener-man. Its growth patterns are very psychedelic!

So, I must learn this Joanna Newsome song this week for a benefit on Saturday.
It’s not an easy one to sing at all! Wish me luck, won’t you?
Hopefully I won’t be petrified. I remember when this song
was released before Have One On Me came out, and I
listened to it over and over on repeat, huddled in blankets
and aching for the warm days when I could work in my
garden. I’ve been thinking about forgiveness a lot lately,
and welcoming everyone into my garden with an open
heart, regardless of the trouble we might have had.
It’s especially significant, because I’ll be doing this
song with my step-brother (he’s going to play it on
guitar.) We’ve never played music together, and
a year or so ago I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
But we’re working on it, and this will be part of that process.
It’s hard, but worth it. I would rather love openly, than
protect my heart. I don’t hold grudges, as a rule,
and I tend to be loyal to a fault. I guess there are
worse things to be. I’m learning how to make it work.
I’d rather just have everyone be together, I guess.
Well, I think Joanna really says it best – I hope we
can do the song justice! I’m trying not to be scared.

“I found a little plot of land
in the garden of eden
it was dirt and dirt is all the same

I believe, regardless, I believe in everyone”
- Joanna Newsom – ’81

“It’s 3:23 in the morning
and I’m awake
because my great great grandchildren
won’t let me sleep
my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?

what did you do
once
you
knew?”
-Drew Dellinger, “Hieroglyphic Stairway”
From “Nature and the Human Soul”
by Bill Plotkin

Tonight, I’m up late. Like Drew, I cannot sleep —
though I am very tired. I’ve never felt so helpless
to do anything useful in the face of such a vast
spoiling. I’ll re-shave half my head, my lover’s head,
my fluffy dogs and bag it up and mail it in hopes that
a part of me and those I love might soak up a tiny bit
of that poison. The poison that fuels my world, that
gets me to work everyday. I sit here hallucinating that I can
smell a whiff of crude on the breeze, knowing that folks
in Mid-City (NOLA) already can. The fertile delta is being
getting kicked in the cunt, repeatedly. Have you ever been
to the coastal wetlands? Do you know what a flock of egrets
looks like? White-white shaded red against the black and twisted
cypress castles in the sunset, the sound their wings make rising up
from the swamp, all at once. Rails, gallinules, and snipe slathered
in oil, eyes blistering. It makes me think of the first trip I made to the
Gulf when I was small. Port Aransas family vacation desperation,
scrappy sad sea-town with sad sea-shell shops that stunk of brine
and pina-colada. Bon Jovi’s Blaze of Glory on every radio, stirring
the first throbs of pubescently painful longing. I was the fetal shark
stuck in the jar at the front desk of the scab-hole, flea-bag motel we stayed at.
Noisy old mold-smelling air-conditioner and sand in the carpet, MTV on every
minute. Walking the apocalyptic beach every day, and finding nothing
but death. Sting-rays, countless fish and birds, and the pulsing, hypnotic
cobalt jellyfish. All rotting, rotten. I was thinking something must’ve happened,
but no one could tell me. I tried overcoming my fear of something sharp touching
my leg in the water and then tugging me down, and let myself be carried out far.
The brown water too warm, like salt-coffee, mud-sea. The bobbing and tar-smell
made me nauseous, but the sight of men fishing off the pier nearby reassured me.
Later, I walked up to see what they were catching so many of. Hammerheads, big ones.
The most pre-historic and vicious of fishes, pulled up from right were I had been
dumbly treading water moments before. Blackout Beach is what I’ve been listening
to over and over while writing this. The perfect soundtrack for my heart’s bleak moments,
and for dark nights in general. Really, really good stuff. It’s Ass Saw the Angel on Ketamine.
Carey Mercer‘s lyrics make me wish he wrote books as well. More albums will suffice
for the nonce, though. I’m doing what I always do in times like these: I stay up late reading
everything I can find, poring over diagrams, fretting, wishing I had a whiskey, being glad
I don’t smoke anymore (because I’d be through a pack by now) and trying desperately to
write. To get it out of me, and out to you. An exorcism, and a hope that even through some
awareness, there could be a chance at helping. So, here’s a slew of what I’ve been reading
and looking at. Check it out, and at the very least, focus some of your consciousness on what’s
happening right now — and while you’re at it, please spare a thought for poor Tennessee,
seeing the images prickles my neck, it’s so familiar. Drowned cities. This earth, she’s a snake.
She’s being pierced with arrows, curled into a ball, biting her own tail from the pain, and now
rising up in anguish, her back rippling and knocking askew settlements nestled into her corded
muscles. Her hips buck up, and she’s thrashing, drooling and panting, tears and blood streaming
out in great gouts and overflowing the banks. How long until she shakes us off for good?

✸ Deepwater Horizon Response – Gulf of Mexico-Transocean Drilling Incident

✸ New Orleans Journal – As Oil Spill Looms, a City Plays the Waiting Game Again

✸ The Gulf oil spill blame game
“If you are searching for the perfect metaphor to describe humanity’s 21st century plight —
an energy-hungry and energy-dependent civilization occupying a resource-constrained planet —
then you need look no further than at a satellite photo of the giant spreading oil slick in the Gulf
of Mexico. That massive hydrocarbon stain is our collective scarlet letter, the price we pay for a
lifestyle of extraordinary affluence and comfort — at least as compared to most of the humans
who have ever lived.” – from Salon.com

✸ Sierra Club: “Oil spill is America’s Chernobyl”

✸ Sunset, Mississippi Gulf Coast near Waveland, 2008
“Katrina. The plight of poor working people. The Great Recession. The BP oil spill.
These aren’t just incidents, or accidents, or unfortunate circumstances.
I’m not saying they’re a conspiracy either. I’m saying they’re all a byproduct of a system
which is deeply, fundamentally broken, and increasingly can produce no other results.”
-from Clayton Cubitt’s amazing blog

✸ Photographs of the oil spill approaching Louisiana coast

✸ Just in case you can’t quite get your mind around it (I know I can’t),
the good folks at GOOD have provided us with this horrifying bit of perspective –
Infographic: The Size of the Oil Spill

✸ BP using toxic chemicals to ‘disperse’ spilled oil

✸ Black Death: Will Fisheries Survive the Oil Spill?

✸ Tracking the Oil Spill
A map of the extent of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, day by day.

(Photograph by Karen Glaser)
from her breathtaking Springs and Swamps collection)
I can’t stop myself from thinking about what’s going to happen when this shit permeates
the bayous. No more crawdads, man. Looking at these gorgeous underwater shots from
Karen Glaser makes me weep for places that were far from pristine a month ago — now
soon to be poisoned beyond all saving. I’m really not sure if a lot of people are comprehending
how majorly fucked we are. This is going to have far-reaching, and long-lasting effects,
and the ripple’s going to touch you at some point. Next time you put a piece of seafood
into your mouth, consider where it came from. Consider the water it lived in. Even if you
don’t eat animals (which I respect, but can’t quite manage), or never considered the Gulf
of Mexico or its wetlands as important (they are), this is going to affect you. A good friend
of mine drove down to the Gulf coast the other day, to see it with her own eyes, and to
say goodbye before it’s ruined forever. She says denial is the general state of mind of
the people she’s met down there. What are the 5 stages of grief? When are we going
to get angry? I’m there, but what will it do? Help me write all this out, I guess.

Or, here’s some things we can do to help:
✸ Oil Spill Volunteers

✸ GREATER NEW ORLEANS FOUNDATION OPENS GULF COAST OIL SPILL FUND

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none–
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.

- The Walrus and The Carpenter
Lewis Carroll
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

Isn’t this the most amazing painting? I’m cursing myself for
not buying it when I had the chance. Luckily, I got to take a
picture before it was swept away. Look at the giant grasshopper!
I just want to hang out with big green bugs and talking irises and be five.
Can that be arranged? Thanks. Damn, why isn’t this painting mine? Foolish!

Here’s another wonderfully naive iris painting. I love the bare trees in the
background and the crackling paint. It’s kind of sweet and depressing all
at the same time. We get some really great artworks by mysterious painters
in the shop fairly often. I have the urge to start collecting some of them,
but I know what a slippery slope that is! My collections are already pretty
out of hand as it is. But, still. I guess if I had nabbed the first creepy iris
painting, I would’ve had to get this one too, right? That’s a pretty obscure
genre: weird iris paintings! I suppose it’s really for the best. Alas, alack.

Instead, how about I collect real irises, and iris perfume?
I remember endlessly poring over iris catalogues with my
mama. Even then, I was obsessed with the pure black and
bright blue irises, the odd green ones and the bi-colors and
tiger striped ones. I love their regal beards and crazy names.
Irises are pretty metal, as far as flowers go. Case in point,
the one I can’t wait to order for my metal-loving blacksmith
boyfriend: Anvil of Darkness! Hell yes. We’re going to have
the most hardcore garden. So far, we have some lovely purple irises
that Violet planted, and white ones from our sweet botanist friend.
I have to wait until Fall to plant more, so in the meantime I’ve been
dabbling with Iris scents. I’d always wanted to try Bois d’Iris
by The Different Company, but I have to say – it’s just not ringing my bells.
The notes are: iris, vetiver, bergamot, cedar, narcissus, geranium and musk,
but I’m only getting old lady. My favorite perfume blog, Now Smell This
describes the sensation of wearing Bois d’Iris as “…closer to being in an
undergound tunnel, with the smell of damp wood and roots.”
I wish I could agree, as I feel like I’m missing the damp and earthen
root smell I crave. In Le Labo Iris 39 sounds more my style with iris
“as earthy and inviting as a rundown house with a wild garden”
I’d also love to try Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist one day,
though it’s probably too civilized for a beast like me.

“For Iris Silver Mist, for instance, the idea came to him
in a Moroccan bookshop that he should look for an iris
so refined, so almost grey, that it could be worn by a man
in a grey flannel suit as easily as by woman.
— From Seducer of The Senses,
a long profile of Serge Lutens in the Financial Times.

Sodden rose-petals on the front porch. Cross your fingers that it keeps
raining all spring. We need it! Our roses are going crazy – busting out
in fuschia and lavender all over the place. I do love me some wild roses.
I think these look like pomegranate kernels, do you see it too?

Mlle. Verhext’s sweetheart + husband to be, Mr. Lee
sent us the sweetest parcel filled with mangosteens (aka. mogwai eggs!)
and (holy cats) Amorphophallus konjac corms! We are going to have voodoo lilies!
Hello, dream come true! On a much graver note,
please, please send good finding energy to Tam’s friend Alex.
She’s been missing for almost a week now. If you’re in the Bay
Area, or have friends that are, please take a minute to re-post
the information about her. I can tell that she’s an amazing person,
and my heart is clenched up wondering where she is.

More treasures from Uncommon Objects:
the best rabbit brooch ever, a very handsome pocketwatch,
and some Victorian woven-hair mourning jewelry. I want it all.

Oh, and here’s another intriguing painting from the shop! Luckily,
my friend and colleague Jeff bought this one, so I can go visit it.
It was painted by a man named Richard Wilt,
in 1951. Jeff was so intrigued by it that he looked up some information,
and ended up talking on the phone to Richard’s widow! She remembered
the piece well, and was very happy to talk about her husband’s work.
Everything we come in contact with at Uncommon Objects has a story -
sometimes we make them up, but sometimes we get to solve mysteries.
Often, I can hold something old and let it tell me its story. Have you ever
had that sensation? Psychometry. I’d like to get better at it. By the way,
I really love my job – I’m super lucky to be able to work in such a creative
place that’s constantly stimulating my imagination with magic, history and art.
I’ve worked some awful jobs in the past though, and I wish I had read this
back then: ordinary magic – part 2 (via Lorra Faye and Gala Darling – thanks ladies!)

I do not know the provenance of this photo, unfortunately. I tried using TinEye,
to no avail. Anyhow, it makes me inordinately happy to see such a tiny snake
(and his giant friend, the berry.) Sometimes we see these guys in the garden.

Mysterious snake appears in painting of Queen Elizabeth I
Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mlle. Verhext!

The Little Horn Speakers: I require these. No, but really. $1850, though! Hurts.

Child-headed whiplash-tail Blengins, courtesy of Mr. Darger.

Go peer at my tumblr mosaic viewer!
It’s an ingenious Japanese site I discovered through the equally ingenious
Journey Round My Skull. Kind of solves the problem I have with tumblr
regarding organization and searchability. You can click on any image
and jump to it (or re-blog it, if you’re looking at someone else’s mosaic.)
I can play with it endlessly! Thank you to whoever created this tiny wonder.

More delicious tidbits to peruse:

✶ Go check out the art of Nicomi Nix Turner and her store, Specimen Jar why don’t you?

✶ Many thanks to Miss Anya (Clever Nettle) for dazzling me
with Tim Walker’s gorgeous Lady Gray spread from this month’s
Vogue Italia. It it very happy-making indeed.

✶ Edward Gorey collection at the Ransom Center Field trip, anyone? I don’t take advantage of this place enough.
It is a repository for some truly mind-blowing collections. Must to go!

✶ A wonderful International Women’s Day collage from boywhocameback

✶ The Math Behind Geometric Hallucinations – Uncoiling the spiral: Maths and hallucinations

✶ Style Icon: Cayce Pollard from William Gibson’s “Pattern Recognition”
from NOGOODFORME.COM, which is my latest happy discovery.
From the very excellent piece, by Kat Asharya:

“Reading Pattern Recognition is a great experience on many levels.
While it divided some of the Gibson faithful who missed the futuristic setting
and the cyberpunk attitude of his other novels (oh, fanboys!), it’s also one of
the few novels I’ve read that really got into the heart on how technology and
the Internet really shape people’s emotional lives and experience, not to mention
grappled intelligently with a post-9/11 landscape. (It’s also awesome when a dude
in a kind of dudecentric genre like sci-fi writes really incredible female characters
that are defined by their abilities, intellect and emotional lives rather than by their
plot convenience and exploited sexuality. William Gibson, you effin’ rock.”

Hear, hear! This makes me hungry to re-read the book!

Related posts:

✶ Snakes + Leather

✶ Flotsam and Jetsam

(Photo by David Sledge)

Poor frozen disco ball! I bought it for 3 dollars at a garage sale.
It’s a big one, and has lost most of the mirrors and has been
repaired with duct tape (?) and silver glitter. Pathetic, really.

Wee effalent wishing for a wooly mammoth coat.

Princess Grrizelda frolicking in her first snowfall!

Our back garden dusted in powdered sugar. I know that this is commonplace
for any of you living up north, but we Texans are like little children when it
snows. We like to marvel at it and take lots of pictures, because many of us
have only ever seen it a handful of times. I stared out the window all day,
hypnotized by the flurries. White bees and icy crystals. Heavenly.

The kale and arugula got sugared, but they should be fine.

Mister frog and his pansy cohorts were not so pleased. Shivering and crumpled!

These johnny-jump-ups did just that — popping up incongruously in the
tomato bed. I hope they emerge unscathed as well – we desperately need
a bit of color outside! I am so tired of this cold and drear. Springtime, ahoy!

The irises seem to think it’s time, too. Cross your fingers for the last of winter!

See also:
Snow Maidens

I love the shots he captured of our exploits with fireworks.
Dazzling! It was the first year in a while that we’d had some
rain, so the burn ban was lifted. How delightful to make our
own hanabi fireflowers – the green goblins were the best!

There were fears of a sparkler shortage, but in the end we prevailed,
and many fizzing wands were lit. You can’t have New Year’s without
sparklers! I don’t know who this tripled ghost is, perhaps it’s me?
I especially love the twilight trees along the horizon. So spectral!

One unhappy side effect of shooting off so many fireworks,
is that a few members of the canine party were terrified.
Our dear blind Thelonius wandered off into the thorny
wilderness in fright, and was missing for hours. The
land is riddled with cacti, rocky ridges, barb wire and
freaks with guns. A desperate search turned up not
hide nor hair, but much later in the night he found his
way back to camp from wherever he’d been hiding.
Oh, we were so relieved! Losing your dog in the
country is pretty scary, especially when he’s totally blind.

My Grampy Grover was a mechanic, and many of his project
cars decorate the field. I’m always envisioning alternate futures
for them – what if they could be transformed into sleeping bunks?
Or mini-parlours? Or I suppose we could try and get them running
again. They are so wonderful, these rusted hulks – mostly Morris
Minors and old Datsuns, and then of course there’s my sweet ride
Miss Gertie. One day we must get her up and running again!

Flip and Wolfie walking into a winter wonderland of tanglewoods.

Miss Amelia brought mint-scented bubbles!
Tonka not only tries to eat bubbles, but also
seems to have a taste for lit fireworks, sparklers
and any whizzing, flying thing. I’ve never seen
a dog try to eat colored fire like that- no fear at all!

Related posts:

✶ Corazones quebrados y perros ciegos

✶ Emergence

✶ Take a walk with me..

It’s incredible what you find on the ground when you take the time to look.
We found beautiful rocks (Lone Grove is rock-hound paradise!)
and treasures buried in the sand. One day, maybe we’ll find
some arrowheads. My Grampy used to find lots out there.

More fodder for my mycological fixations!

We finally managed to bring home this gorgeous stained glass window
that was my mother’s. New Year’s Eve is her birthday, but it feels like
she gave me a present instead this year. I can’t wait to install it in our parlour!

We were treated to three very beautiful sunsets, all very different but each
very spectacular. This was my favorite though, taken while driving the
Willow City Loop! If you get the chance to take that drive, I highly recommend it.

Lovely Miss Amelia joined us for the holiday – always managing to be the
picture of elegance in satin peignoirs and kiss curls around the campfire.

She took this picture of me in front of my favorite blasted tree.
I got these Posture Magnetic star leggings recently, and I wish
I could wear them every day! I don’t know if Brian Erickson is
still making this stuff, but if anyone finds any – please let me know.

It doesn’t get more celestial than star pants + singing bowls, you know?

Colin is the singing bowl master – he made tones come out of that little bowl
that made me laugh with elation and had my eyes streaming tears.
Have you ever played one? They are amazing. I want a really huge one!

Like my antlers? Miss Jolie Holland made ‘em for me!
They are so simple, and so perfect – I love that lady.
I hope that your celebration was marvelous, and that your year is off to
an auspicious start. Any resolutions or goal-makings for you? I have lots!
Hopefully I will do a better job of accomplishing them this time round.
I am being helped a lot by the teuxdeux, an excellent to-do list maker.
(Thanks for turning me on to this, Gala!) I love it. Perfect for the obsessive
list-maker who spends too much time online!

This year I intend to:
✶ cook outside more often –
it’s so fun and satisfying!
✶ dance more!
✶ dress with specific intention every day
✶ write lots of letters and postcards!
✶ be more engaged with my body,
through yoga + exercise – oh yeah!
✶ read more – I have heaps of wonderful
books awaiting me, so delicious and tempting.
✶ make lots of jewelry
✶ re-design this bee-log – soon, soon!
✶ start selling off a lot of my vintage collection,
and keep selling interesting curios
✶ additionally, I would like to be more
patient, serene and positive in general.
✶ oh yes, and I’d like to DJ lots more!
I could keep going, but I think that’s a
pretty good start. Now is the time.

By the way – if you haven’t gotten a copy of the latest issue
of Coilhouse yet, (Issue 04) you had better hustle!
I am so proud to have two articles in this one:
the interview I did with Larkin Grimm, with an
additional piece on the Musicka Mystica Maxima Festival,
and an interview with Christopher Brosius of I Hate Perfume.

One day, I must get to back to Detroit!
I have family there – I visited them by train
when I was very small. Have you ever been?
Check out these incredible photographs
of abandoned buildings – I’d love to explore them!
The Grandiose Decay of Abandoned Detroit

I enjoyed reading this excerpt from a biography
of super-tragic supermodel Gia Carangi and her teenage years as a David Bowie fan.
I’ve always loved thinking about the tidal wave of glam and glitter
and the fever that swept up the restless youth in a sea of glitter polyester!
Can you imagine? What a crazy time to experience, eh?

One last thing – if you still have not seen Badlands (Terrence Malick, 1973),
then we need to talk. It’s been on my top ten favorite films of all time list
for many years. Sissy Spacek and Martin Sheen are incredible, and
I adore Terrence Malick’s work. I wish the soundtrack was available,
it’s great too. Man, I need to see it again soon! I wish Criterion would
release it – the only copies I’ve seen have been real scrabbly.
Right! With that, I bid you goodnight! I go back to work on the morrow,
and must figure out what the hell I’m doing for my birthday – it’s only
a week away! Ideas? I’m fairly stumped, though I may have just nailed it…
This trip into the wild was pretty inspiring – perhaps the tipi will play a part!

(p.s. I just noticed that the formatting on the
following photos is wonked, but if you click
on the title or comments, you can see them
nice and big and not all squashed, okay?)

Ghosts of Shopping Past
(Photograph by Brian Ulrich)

Driving down the highway recently, we were having
a conversation about the death of the shopping mall,
about our early memories of seeing the first outdated
dinosaurs succumb to desolation, and now the mega-
malls go too. Fluorescent lit juggernauts of excess,
crumbling into disrepair, wishing wells moldering,
atriums and kiosks all abandoned. It’s interesting.

Remember this? I can’t say I’ll be missing the
food court, or the shops – I honestly haven’t really
been in a mall in years, save emergency in-outs
to the Apple store that end in me being hustled out
of Sephora by my fella, who hates being in malls
even more than me. Way more, actually.
So what will become of these hulking behemoths?
Disintegration or re-purposing? It’s hard to say.

(This and the following photograph, both by Palani Mohan)

Mr. Saturnic is always a great source of
incredible photography spreads, I was
swooning over Palani Mohan’s
Vivid – Colours of Asia series he posted over there.

Out of them all, she is my favorite.
I wish I could hop inside the frame,
and be her friend. I would already
speak Tibetan, and be perfectly
acclimated to thin air, and dressed
warmly. Out to milk the mountain
goats and welcome home the
honey hunters! One day.

✷ Stoat uses hypnotic weasel war dance.

✷ Making Ferrofluids work for you!

✷ Jewelled butterflies and cephalopods
from John Coulthart’s Feuilleton

✷ Coilhouse Issue 04 is coming out soon -
I cannot wait! In the meantime though,
check out all the intriguing small businesses
that have taken out ads (especially excellent
if you are still hunting for last minute treats
like I am…) there’s a lot there to pique + delight.

✷ One last thing from the lovely
Joanna Ebenstein at Morbid Anatomy
My New Favorite Magazine : Lapham’s Quarterly
I must get my paws on a copy, soonly!