School picture day! 7th grade. For real.

You see, we met when I was 13 and she was 11. The setting: a manky teenage boy’s bedroom in the trashiest
trailer in our neighborhood. I was in the middle of having my first kiss with a chubby boy who I agreed to try
making out with on basis of the fact that he had Robert Smith hair (sort of). The soundtrack: The Glove – Blue Sunshine.
With song titles like “Punish Me With Kisses” and “Mouth to Mouth“, it really couldn’t have been much more apt. I was much
more captivated with the album (it took me years to track it down and hear it again! Still a major favorite.) than I was
with the kissing. I think I was a little stoned, and all I could think about was giant pink slugs undulating. ¡El Grosso Maximo!
At the sound of the door creaking open, we wriggled apart, and through a veil of shaggy bangs that I thought hid my awesome
coke-bottle glasses (they totally, uh, didn’t.) I spied a feral wolf-child. A sullen cherub with a nimbus of golden curls that glowed
in the blacklight bulb. She stomped in all tough in plaid skater shorts and monkey boots. We eyed each other, and I think both
realized instantly that we were saved. Literally, in so many ways. We say it all the time, but it doesn’t make it any less true
that if we hadn’t stumbled across each other at that time in our lives, that both of us would have probably ended up dead
or worse. How fate decided to bless us by having our parents find houses right down the street from each other made up
(a bit) for all the other ways she decided to completely fuck us up. Soon, we were spending every free moment together,
hanging out in burned-out, abandoned houses after school and sneaking out of our bedroom windows to smoke pilfered
ciggies and wander around. Eventually we were dressing up like baby hooker vampires and cadging rides to nightclubs
and yet somehow made it back in our beds every night before 4am and go to school in the morning. We were wild, bad
little Lolitas, and it’s a goddamn miracle that we made it out of adolescence so (relatively) unscathed. Amazing, really.

I can’t find the picture of us as baby vampires, so instead here’s us dazed + starry-eyed after modeling in our first fashion show
at the very first New Bohemia, when it was over on Duval. Back in the day, man. We were such babies! Children! What.

Pea on St. Valentine’s Day back in our old place on Royal + Mandeville.
Observe her emu claw diadem and scars from Cupid’s arrows. Heartbreaker!

Sweet valentines. I am grateful to say that this girl was my very first lover, and who better to be initiated into
the mysteries of love than the person you love most in the world, your best friend and partner in crime?
We were lucky. We are lucky. She has taught me so much in these past (holy shit) 19 years…

Queen Marie, still from Pastrisetimania. – “Cake Sits, a fetishistic photo series.”

CYGNUS OLOR
This video is a collaboration between Dana Sherwood and The Black Forest Fancies
An incorrigible collector with an eye for the exotic captures a swan girl and holds her captive in a confectionary cabin

For the past few years, Pandora was working with the Dream Community in Taiwan,
living in rural villages, and working with the inhabitants to build large scale puppets and stage colorful parades.

I’ll let the beautiful Princess of the Puyuma tell you about it in her own words:
In this year overburdened by impossible goodbyes, I’d simply forgotten to miss Taiwan.
I’ve taken the double life summer dive headfirst into color I never can suffer at home.
The electric magenta hibiscus, relentless fuchsia and indigo of tree climbing orchids.
Tropical shades that sear the retina when viewed at midday and emanate neon through
thunderstorm gray. We have such colors in the swamps where I’ve nestled. We’ve the
requisite cruelty of the hot house garrote, anesthetized in narcotic notes of jasmine and datura.
But here these colors throb with mountains’ magic, erupting from black rock and vapour like Boschian
airships suspended in battle – a mesozoic sex display, the glow of which recalls the natal moments when
this magma formed landscape was molten. The timeless beauty of the mountains underlining indignity
of the cinderblock cityscapes, alive with devouring mold. Tree and trellis spangled with giant spiders,
Giger aliens spinning omens, and all we monstrous spinners on display.

Our parade work this year concerns the rediscovery and celebration of Taiwan’s aboriginal cultures.
There are 14 active and politically recognized tribes in Taiwan today, each with their own unique language,
mythology and cultural practices. There are at least a dozen more unrecognized tribes whose organization is
decentralized, as reflected in the death or morbidity of their language and dispersal of their genetic strains.
Archeological research suggests that the ancestors of the current tribes have been living on this island since 8000
years before Chinese immigration began in the 17th century. They have an ethnic identity that is distinct from the
Asian mainland but now comprise only 2 percent of Taiwan’s population, the majority of the population being
ethnically and linguistically Chinese. From the beginning of recorded history the aboriginal peoples have experienced
economic and military conflict with a global menagerie of covetous colonizers: western and northern Europeans,
north and south Americans, the Japanese, who came armed with the anvil of archeology. They staged digs and
opened museums, nailed bare asses into grey woolen writing desks in a thousand thatch roofed classrooms.
Turning practice into history as they systematically laid the – timeless – life of the village to waste.
A clock forever counting circles round the irrevocable bootprints of modernity.

Today as ever looms the ubiquitous spectre of lady China, face-shifting parasite sister to the all-too-proximal north.
These colonial viruses have redefined the island with almost comic regularity, invasions so frequent that they echo the
seasonal tracks of typhoon – violently resurfacing the patterns of life and landscape with language shifts and cultural
(re)assimilation. In keeping with the common plight of indigenous peoples the world over, Taiwanese aboriginals face
steep social barriers rooted in prejudice and exclusion: unemployment, substandard state provision for healthcare and
education, squalid housing and farming conditions, staggering rates of alcoholism and drug addiction. Since the 1980s
efforts have been undertaken on the part of the surviving tribes toward a revival of ethnic identity.
These include incorporating elements of their culture into commercial and artistic endeavors, pop music and pageantry.
That’s where we parade makers figure in. Putting craft through its paces and the spinners on display.

Falling in love with an enameled sewing machine. I mean, wouldn’t you?

The Mudlark Confectionary a cabinet of curious conceptions.

Dolls of The Mudlark Confectionary

Saint Dymphna
These days though, Pandora owns and operates the Mudlark Public Theatre in New Orleans upper Ninth Ward
neighborhood and is the artistic director of that space’s resident company, The Mudlark Puppeteers and co-founder
of the Black Forest Fancies Ltd. She makes puppets, dolls, sets and stories. She is a weaver of magic webs.

A puppet from The Black Wallows Foundling Hospital.

So here’s the deal, in her own words:
In the month of June I had the extreme pleasure of working as a craftswoman on an installation of my dear friend Mark Dion’s
design for a site on a National Tourist Road in Norway. The piece will be located at the top of a mountain, near a glacier
in the incomparably beautiful area of Ardal. A number of world-reknowned artists have been selected by the Norwegian
Tourist Bureau to contribute work to such sites. Notable among these is the last work of the brilliant metal artist Louise Bourgeois,
which is a memorial to the victims of the witch-burnings at Vardo Island, in the North of Norway.

I am constantly at work and seeking future opportunities. I now, a month after completing my contribution to the piece in Norway, still
haven’t even the vaguest clue as to when I will be paid. None of us do. Even Mark, with his esteemed reputation and integrality to the
completion of the project next year, has been given what can only be called ‘the serious, red-tape runaround.’ At first we were told simply
to be patient, that everything was being done in its proper order. The latest word is that all payments are on hold until the end of the
Norwegian Summer holidays – at some time in August. While the bureaucrats summer in sunnier climes, our invoices are evidently on some
Kafka-esque nightmare ride through the gears of a grim machine of the very old garde, and as in Kafka, there is no indication as to where
or when the ride might terminate. In short, I budgeted my life around money I have no access to for the indefinite future.
I have been unavailable for all other work in this period and consequently find myself at a pretty serious financial impasse.
I have had to cancel many plans, the most poignant being a visit to my hometown of Austin, TX to visit my oldest friends and
light candles at my parents’ memorials in honor of my 30th birthday, which is July 22nd.
I am hoping to sell some of my past-works, mostly hand sculpted art-dolls, to offset the deficit.
– Pandora Gastelum

If you’d like to help, please take a look at some of her work over at The Mudlark Confectionary,
and be on the lookout for her handmade art dolls for sale soon on etsy under mudlarkconfectionary
(we’re working on getting her shop up, but in the meantime, let me know if you have any questions
about purchasing pieces!) She has gifted me a new dolly for my every birthday for years, and each
one is perfect and comes intact with their very own soul. I treasure them enormously.

(Photo by Petra Arnold)
Happy birthday, star of the sea, poppy petal princess, peach-pie pea-pod, sweet sister, dearheart!

This house was decorated so wonderfully for Hallowe’en + Dia de los Muertos,
I had to stop and gawp at it for a bit. I wonder who lives there? I like them already.

A view from the back of Rusty Lazer’s trusty minivan, on the morning we left
New Orleans: my bike was secured by ropes, my bed was an amazing vintage
Peter Max quilt, my breakfast – a delicious Hubig’s pie. The factory is a street
over from my old house, and I miss standing on my balcony and breathing in
the sweet aroma of juicy fruit-filled fried pies being baked in the morning. Hu-dat!

This is my new boyfriend, Orestes. He and his sister Electra belong to Pandora,
and they are super high-fashion designer glam movie-star cats. They’re famous.

Miss Pea’s kitchen is a minature ocean, sailing high above the rooftops.

Her red-ribboned leather shoes share space with bottles found in her excavations.

Flying fish made from sequins.

You can sing sea-shanties while you do the dishes and swab the decks.

Rabbit lace! Do you swoon? I swoon.

I was invited to a miniature tea-party hosted by velour-flocked rabbits, but all they
served me were anise pastilles, arsenic and dust. I had a pastille. Wouldn’t you?

Pandora as Icarus, golden boy, cinder-scarred and eschar pink.

Colin made this incredible mask in a few hours, using random stuff
he grabbed from the hardware store. Yes, he is a terrifying genius!

Aluminum sheet, bristle-brushes, round vents and yaki pony came together
to form this seriously brutal bionic dinosaur predator creature. So bad-ass!

At some point over the last year, I had this vision of a Buffalo Ghost
Warrior Woman, and I wanted to make her real. There’s a little Japanese
kabuki, and Mononoke thrown in there for good measure, and though I
never thought to get a picture of it, there was a carved mask with the face
of an old man on the back of my foxfur headdress. Two-face. Oni. Demon
who steals scalps and eyes. The ghost who defends the memory of thousands
of slaughtered buffalo, left to rot on the prairie. She who avenges the native
people pushed off their land, killed like dogs in the dirt. All that, and sassy
fringe boots. I made the wig that day, and it was alarmingly weighty and warm!

I found the most perfect vintage buckskin dress ever, which fit me perfectly,
and feels amazing to wear. It’s the kind of garment that makes one think
seriously about wearing nothing but buckskin always and forever. If only!

I loved these guys the most. They were so impeccable with their perfect
faces, and perfect church-lady hats. Creepster twins, who are you?

Delaney Flytrap! How perfect is she? Very.

Yeah, so meat as clothing is so done and whatever, but hello!
It takes balls, man. This kid looked great. It was a good look for him, right?

Corinne Patrice Loperfido + her perfect boob(s) suit!

Miss O. – Mantis Queen

Nina Carolina!

Buttonface!

Miss Calamity

Gummi Medusa

Jean Wilson – Black Crow

Miss Angie – Prances With Coyotes

Critter bite at the end of the night!

Full set of Hallowe’en photographic depravity right here:
New Orleans Hallowe’en 2010

My dearest darling Dana, walking along the strand – elegant as ever.

I hadn’t seen the ocean in a long time. Too long. I love the Pacific.
It’s so grand and ferocious! Far too chilly for swimming, but I took
off my shoes and stockings and walked into the surf, and climbed
up rocky cliffs. It felt good to breathe in clean brine and negative ions
swirling in the surf. Soft sand under my feet, and warm sun on my back.

I think this might be the first time I’d ever seen starfish in their
natural habitat. I wouldn’t mind being a starfish, or an anemone.
How I would love to see some anemones! I want to go to the
tidepools in Salt Point National Park next time, and St. Orres also!

When I walked past these, they all moved as if to grab me with
their little beaky pincers. I was reminded of the old belief that
this is where geese come from. You know, from barnacles:

“In the days before it was realised that birds migrate, it was thought that
Barnacle Geese, Branta leucopsis, developed from this crustacean,
since they were never seen to nest in temperate Europe, hence the
scientific and English names. The confusion was prompted by the
similarities in colour and shape. Because they were often found on
driftwood, it was assumed that the barnacles were attached to branches
before they fell in the water. The Welsh monk, Giraldus Cambrensis,
claimed to have seen goose barnacles in the process of turning into
barnacle geese in the twelfth century.”
- from Wikipedia

I really wanted to touch it! It looks so squishy. I did not, as that
would be very rude indeed. Restraint is key, when dealing with
aquatic denizens. They are very easily offended, or so I’ve heard.

We are sirens that beckon you toward our rocky lagoon.
So marvelous to see my lovely ladies, Miss Dana + Miss Courtney.
Later that day, we are oysters at my favorite spot, the Marshall Store,
and then trekked up into the hills to a magical house seemingly made
by Japanese woodcarver elves. More on that tomorrow, though…

Courtney Pocketmouse in her natural environment.
She is part selkie, or didn’t you know? I wonder where
she keeps her sealskin hat hidden? Shh! Don’t tell!

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..

(Photograph by @nt!x)
I can’t wait to re-inhabit our tipi-yurt-lavvu-thing!
I’m still hankering for a proper one,
but they’re quite pricey – oh, one day…

(Photograph by Oregon State University Archives)

Okay, just a heads up – this eclipse is pretty gnarly!

(Photograph by Richocam)

“The Full Moon Lunar Eclipse on December 31st, 2009
occurs at 10°15′ Cancer, in conjunction with the Fixed Star Alhena,
a star which is reputed to be favourable for hunting, besieging towns,
and the revenge of princes! It would be wise to avoid travel at this time,
if you can. Known as “the wound in the tendon of Achilles”
it destroys fruits and harvests. Cancer is an emotional sign,
ruled by the Moon, so since neither the Sun nor the Moon
form any promising aspects on this day, expect quite an emotional,
even teary New Year’s Eve. Mercury is retrograde in Capricorn,
and Mars is also retrograde in Leo, so issues and attractions
from the past will demand to be dealt with under this eclipse.
Breakdowns in communication will spark the issue.
Since at the moment of the eclipse, Warrior Mars
(action; passion; violence; accidents) is rising exactly
on the degree and minute of the ascendant,
tightly opposing the Part of Fortune (within 4 minutes of arc),
the chances of a blood-stained celebration are high.”
- Rob Tillett
Um, whoa. Yikes much?
For further reading, I suggest you
check out what Heather Burdette
has to say – it’s a little more calming!

(Photograph by Carlos Lisboa)

Regardless of celestial influence, I truly hope that
everyone has a marvelous turning of the year!
There are so many things I want to accomplish
this year, so much ground I want to cover -
it’s a little overwhelming to contemplate!
I’m starting slowly and quietly, cleaning
and sweeping my house to make it ready for
the approval of the Blanchette, and lighting
candles and making wishes that this year
I can achieve my goals – no more Procrastination
Station, please!

“You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestation of your own blessings!”

I read this somewhere recently, and it made a big impression on me.
(So much so, that I can’t recall where I read it? Eesh.)
I think that this will be my motto for the year,
in hopes that I will be reminded to take the reins
for myself and stop waiting around for divine
intervention to crown me empress of my life.
Drive your own chariot to the moon.
Now or never!

(Photographer unknown to me!)

“Begin doing what you want to do now.
We are not living in eternity.
We have only this moment,
sparkling like a star in our hand -
and melting like a snowflake…”
- Francis Bacon, Sr.

Here’s a little happy/sad number called Days With You
from fine fellows Jason Webley with Sxip Shirey.
Watch out – it is extremely catchy!
Hopefully you can remember the words
and sing it tipsily with your best friends, eh?

More reading material from days of yore:
✶ Lone Grove New Year – 2009
✶ Pink Moons
✶ The New Year – 2008
✶ Lucky Stars and Garters – 2007
✶ La Nouvelle Année – 2006

Oh, I’ve been so ill! Again, a nasty bug has knocked me down-
an unfortunate casualty of my poor candle, burnt at both ends.
I’ve been flattened like a pancake under the steamroller of a
particularly pernicious strain of influenza. Bother!
I won’t go into the gory details, only that the only places
I’ve spent any time recently have been the bed and the
lavatory. So sad. Luckily, I do like saltines and applesauce,
which my diet has consisted mainly of. Also bananas.

Many good things happened before I went under the weather,
however. Including, but not restricted to the following:

★ We saw Where the Wild Things Are, hooray!
It was so wonderful. I loved the attention to detail.
Of course, I bawled. Brimming heart, broken twigs.

★ Taking the pups for lazy afternoon walks after checking out
some garage sales. Strolled by our sweet neighbors abode,
and got in some sweet sunset porch perchin’ with one of the
prettiest families ever. They plied us with treats: banyan tree
seeds, fancy beer, my favorite incense and homemade vegan
chocolate cheesecake! A good reminder to be more sociable, eh?

★ Enjoying a break from disko preparations to attend
darling Mme. Labry’s birthday party, where we sipped
the most amazing drink ever: bison grass vodka and
apple juice daiquiris! Apparently, it is the national drink
of Poland. If so, let’s go! Especially nice in slushie form.
Unfortunately, I had to depart before the stripper we hired
had arrived. It was my special request that he wear a cop uniform!

(I took this photo of Chad and Tracy of St. Mary’s on my back porch)

★ I had a lovely visit with my darling Chad (aka. Mon Petit Fantome)
who was in town to see Hope Sandoval play. What a luminously
gorgeous show. I never had the opportunity to see Mazzy Star
perform, alas – but this more than made up for it. Hope’s voice
is even better in person, and she’s ace on the xylophone.
The projected images overlaying the stage were completely
hypnotizing – lava and sparkles and silent film snippets.

Witchery in the house of sticks!

(photograph by Nick Heywood)

★ This pile of German periodicals makes me have a funny feeling in my heart.
Wait until you see the details from the spines- they are glorious indeed!
I’ve been laying around reading, reading: nothing too serious.
I devoured Stieg Larsson’s Swedish hacker/journalism/sex/noir
sequel The Girl Who Played With Fire, and plenty of magazines
(Interview, Cabinet, The Believer). I require more subscriptions, please.
Also, your latest book and magazine recommendations, please!

(via petitdejeuner)

★ I actually have a bit more time now, and am looking forward to
catching up on my reading soon. Not that I don’t have stacks piling up,
but oh – there’s always room for more, hmm? I’d like to get The Wild Things
soon, speaking of… The cover is fantastic, no? Wants.

★ Oh yes, and – I started one of these… Angeliska Parade!
This is what happens when I’m confined to indoors.
A good repository for scraps of glory and oddments.

★ Solitude, such quiet. Peaceful for the first time in awhile.
Silly that I must be so ill in order to achieve it. It feels like
my body’s getting the rest it didn’t the last time I was sickly,
rushing about in New York. Well, okay. Rest, then.

(Stinky Herman the hedgehog hangs out near a Galliano Diptyque
candle, hoping his musty death-smell will not offend passersby)
As soon as I rolled into town, I started going out every night-
dancing until dawn at the Rubulad Boat Party, and the next
evening at Disko Nouveaux, which no doubt contributed to
my run down system. Combine that with allergies, climate change
and general neglect, and it’s no wonder I’m sick as a damn dog.
I’m trying not to be despondent, and just hope to kick it soonly,
but my sinuses are just built wrong or something- and this sort
of thing tends to linger. Acupuncture appointment in Chinatown
is set for tomorrow, plus a visit to Congee Village! The horror
of not being able to smell or really enjoy food, (not to mention
feeling snot-ridden and unglamourous) is a bit of a problem.
How am I going to haunt the hallowed halls of Aedes de Venusta
and I Hate Perfume with a blocked-up nose faucet? Really, now.

(Dana and Mark have more Victorian taxidermy than anyone I know.
Quite an impressive collection, amassed on their various travels.)

Other highlights so far have included an immense steak dinner
at Peter Luger’s, walking home from the train at dawn, hearing
the multitude of birds singing in the eaves of a grand theatre
turned church. Getting very lost with the Tibetan lady who
was my cabdriver- the ineffable experience of connecting
on a deep level with total strangers in this huge/tiny city.
She gave me a yellow rose. The same night, I happened
to sit down next to the lovely Miss A., and offered her a
Choward’s Violet Pastille. Hours later, our wonderful
conversation unabated, I remembered the mantra I set
for myself as I was preparing for this trip: BE OPEN
– to experiences, to people, to the energy of the city.
So far, it’s served me very well indeed, as I’ve met some
wonderful people I never would’ve encountered by being
shut off. It’s so easy to pull down the shade here, to not
interact, not make eye contact. You’re never alone here,
even when you want to be, so people make that privacy
for themselves — so as not to go completely mad!
Too often, however, that solitude becomes complete –
a black impenetrable wall of protection, and we find
ourselves too alone, too isolated. I’ve been reminding
myself all the time to smile, instead of just staring,
and it’s been rewarded every time with warmth
and recognition. Try it and see what happens.

(Dana’s gorgeous wax orange blossom bridal wreath and hair collection.)

Oh yes, I also went to go see Nick Cave do an interview and reading from
his new book, The Death of Bunny Munro. His boy Jethro Lazenby Cave
was there, striding gloriously in my direction at one point, ooh-la!
I must say, the proximity to the Cave père et fils gave me quite a frisson!

More precious treasures, bisque babies, hair flowers.
Did I mention it’s Fashion Week here? Could’ve fooled me.
I’ve been completely oblivious, not gone to a single couture show,
fool that I am. Crikey. I hope I won’t miss it all! Living vicariously
instead through Yvan Rodic’s wonderful photographs, and
feeling The Gawker’s pain. Stupid sinus infection!

Dana and Mark’s tiny kitchen is quite inspiring. It’s like being inside a pastry
shell stuffed with antique lace and snails. They have the most elegant
refrigerator interior ever, lots of crocheted doilies and rush baskets.

I spent all of yesterday languishing in bed. Luckily, the bed is very luxurious-
I have the honor of staying in Miss Jolie Holland’s room while she’s out on
tour (go see her if she comes to your town! You’ll be so glad you did!)

Stefan Jecusco playing his magical banjo (goat-headed, handmade from ancient wood)
and Jolie on her Strohviol at a wonderful potluck here. My dear friend Jana
is taking really good care of me. I’m so glad to be staying here with her!

I’m laying around, feeling awful, listening to city sounds, the neighbor’s laundry
waving at from from out on the line. The tinkling of brass coins, car alarms,
children playing, a man screaming. Slowing it all down, and resting.

Sunlight on the chandelier, reflected over the courtyard from a windowpane.
A whole day passes, and I’m still here. Make a wish that I get better soon?

I can’t wait to go to my favorite Indian restaurants:
Milan I and Milan II – otherwise known as:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY INDIAN FOOD! If you know, you know.
So magical. It’s like being on the inside of a piñata.

I get to see my beloved Dana Kitten! My ravishing sister with the most
incredible stormy blue violet eyes. It will be so lovely to see her and
her dashing beau, Mr. Mark Dion- I haven’t seen them in ages and ages!

She is an amazing artist, and creator of confectionery oddities.

Wild Irish Rose, gone feral in the bogs! Beware her thorny parasol!

The incomparable Lord Whimsy led us on a fantastic tour
of his favorite stomping grounds, the eerily beautiful Pine Barrens.
We spent a lovely day there, hunting for carnivorous plants,
fungi, and the ever-elusive Jersey Devil! I’d love to camp there someday.

Sadly, I cannot recall the name of this very rare bloom! Whims, refresh me?
We parted ways at dusk, after an afternoon of tromping in the woods,
and junk hunting! We bought an enormous (4 or 5 feet tall!) glass bell jar
that had originally housed a waxen saint doll, who tragically melted
years before. Oh, how I wish I could’ve seen her! I ought to mention
that in a fit of folly, we um- attempted to have this incredible thing
shipped. How foolish we were- of course it shattered en route.

We rushed back for a dinner party, and what a soiree it was-
always attended by the most fashionable zombies, of course.

Dana and Mark’s elegant apartment is filled with all manner of exciting
taxidermy, and their collection has grown exponentially since my last
visit here. More pictures to follow! I’m in a paradise of artful living here.

It’s enough to make you swoon- especially if your waist
has been narrowed to 18 inches by silk and whalebone!
Too tight? Of corset is!

Sadly, my sweetheart wasn’t able to accompany me on this trip..
I took this picture of him when we were last at Coney Island,
and it remains one of my favorites. Isn’t he dreamy?

Little lost goat, wandering through the blue dioramic mountains-
don’t you wish you had a guide to the big city? Luckily, I have
a long list of favorite places to re-visit, and new things to explore..

Rachael Gibson’s (Fur Coat, No Knickers) Super-Big New York Guide
is proving to be extremely helpful, however! Anything else
on your personal New York list I absolutely mustn’t miss?
I’ve fully entered the whirlwind, and am running literally
from dusk ’til dawn- more current updates as soon as I
can catch my breath! Until then, back into the fray!

So, remember when I went to Chicago?
I’m just now finding a minute to write about all that,
so forgive the vast rewind- as per usual, I create my own
time-space continuum and all that.
I find myself in a hulking city packed with bodies
and marvel as I let myself be buffeted like a bit o’ flotsam
down the human river. So many facets of life’s vicissitudes
moving all around me. I love to get lost in that thick
stream, to wonder about lives and languages and stories.
It’s what I love most about big cities, and what would no doubt
drive me mad if I lived in one for a long time.
If you’re even a little bit empathic, it can be quite overwhelming
to be constantly surrounded by minds on all sides-
though in smaller doses, it’s a sublime delight.

This Egyptian Temple had been converted into a climate-controlled storage unit facility.
Guaranteed to keep the contents of your canopic jars fresh, and your mummified cats
perfectly preserved for all eternity. The night-watchman’s a Setian Priest, no doubt.

We had the pleasure of staying in the marvelous sprawling apartments of Elena Brocade,
though she was on honeymoon in Cairo until the very end of our visit. Romantical!
It was wonderful to explore her world- it is truly a wonderland of exotic plants, ostrich
feathers, intriguing books, mannequins, puppets and fancy hats. In other words, paradise.

Elena is a very talented and inspiring creature- she’s an aerial artist, amazing all with her
feats on the static trapeze, silks, and Spanish web. Strength, grace and incredible fashion sense-
all wrapped up into one sassy package of sinew, satin and sequins. We totally raided her closet,
which has a whole section devoted to nothing but jumpsuits! Her costumes are the best, ever.

Check her out! Also, if you saw Public Enemies recently, that was her looking all dusty and consumptive
and clutching at Johnny Depp’s arm after making him egg-salad sandwiches. She’s a movie star!

An amazing shop window downtown- little did I know, it was done by a
good friend of Lady Lavona’s. Infinitesimally small world we wander through.

This was glued to the wall in Elena’s kitchen. Sexy!
Appetite-stimulating! I wish I could read the whole comic.

Grandmother Wolf.

Al and Raven, (very tipsy and adorable) were our trusty guides to Chicago’s nightlife.
It was so good to hang out with these dear ones- I had missed them both enormously.
We went new-wave dancing at Neo, and it was hilarious.
Chartreuse + soda and Bauhaus. Almost like being 15 in New Orleans again!
Hunger in our bellies led us to a glowing bastion in the night, the only thing open-
(aside from that hot-dog stand where all the drunk asshats harass the hot-dog ladies.)
The Golden Nugget! It was filled with faux-art-nouveau stained glass,
southwestern themed frosted glass and grumpy waitresses!
Also, greasy blinis! Perfection. Latkes at 3am, so happy-making.

Obligatory 4am post-nightclub late-night diner bathroom photo.

Back at Elena’s the next morning we discovered some grisly evidence.

Curtains, for you

Magic doorways.

Have you ever tasted durian? Do you adopt ancestors?

I want this iridescent peachy wallpaper, please.

Elena’s sad soldier sculpture. He looks like a peat bog man to me.

This is Diana. She works at The Red Apple Polish Buffet.
She became our friend, first because of her amazing outfit and hot accent-
but then because she played good music just for us in our private room,
and was totally amenable to being kidnapped and taken to the beach.
Diana, we love you! Run away with us, and then take us to Poland with you!

The Polish toy shop, where I had to get dragged out of here, and was thus prevented
from buying heaps of faded birthday cards with kittens and indecipherable greetings.

Lukewarm Dude Puma. Need I say more?

I sat by this window, and read this book about Michael Jackson. It was strange.

Okay, next time I go to Chicago it’s going to be for more than just a couple
of days- so I need lots of suggestions for wondrous and interesting things
I need to experience there. Pony up! I love wandering around aimlessly,
but please make me a magic map of destinations. It’s such a fantastic city-
tell me your stories about it, won’t you? What must I simply not miss?