The Tiger’s Wife, by Téa Obreht – I’m almost finished with it. It’s so good it makes me kind of sick.

Ramona, my love – won’t you be mine? I want this, I want this, I want this – but I cannot have it!

I also want every single one of these bird cigarette cards!

Mardi Gras 1983 poster. Yes, yes – I covet this, also.

Back of the taxi cab disco goth Cleopatra realness goin’ on…

Late night drawing. Sideways roots.

Moon moth cuffs. Done & nearly done. I make jewelry, y’all. For sale, soonly.

Le bain – my happiest refuge.

Bath pavilion, dusk de-glittering.

These hairpins are made from kingfisher feathers. They are beyond words.

The store’s motto is: “Find what has disappeared”, and with Gabrielle’s eye
for exotic treasure, you are sure to find it here – whether it be exquisite alabaster
pendant lamps that once hung in grand ballrooms, or ancient carvings from foreign
lands. There is a strong appreciation here for things well-made, and clearly loved.
Any object designed or created with an love of beauty, and a desire to make things
that would last a long time. Between these solid, comforting pieces flits the ephemeral,
taking the form of a faded love letter, or a shattered-silk parasol. I’ve been to hundreds
of antique shops, and there are certain ones that really just get it. The aesthetics, the
passion, the joy of the hunt, the deep browse – it’s not an easy combination to nail,
and very few actually even try. I love a dusty, ramshackle hodge-podge any day,
(especially when the prices fit the atmosphere) but those are a dying breed, and
sadly few and far-between these days. More often than not, you find the neon-lit,
sterile antique mall filled with aisle after aisle of overpriced depression glass and
arrays of offensive saltshakers. Or, it’s the quaint “shoppe” run by a coterie of biddies
on a straggly small town square. I prefer these to the former, but the aroma of potpourri
and desperation can be overwhelming. When I tell people I deal in antiques, I always
wonder if they flash to places like these. I imagine many picture one of those fancier
places, always very quiet and chill, with never a speck of dust on the perfect Edwardian
sideboards or exquisite carpets. I guess there’s Antiques with a capital A, junk, and um-
“junque” (oh yes – I see it all too often in some “shoppes”) which can be identified by
sponge-painted country geese. Thankfully, a new breed of curio shops has emerged
from the detritus that manage to combine the rare and fine with the imperfectly exquisite.
Natural objects like wasp’s nests might find themselves priced alongside woven gold tapestries
with the same reverence for the genius of both their makers. I’ve been lucky to have worked and
sold in one of the best – Uncommon Objects, where I’ve learned so much about all the beautiful
things humans have loved or used long enough to treasure, and the business of dealing in them.

The Tree of Life mural on the back wall was painted by Gabrielle’s mother, if I remember
correctly, (& I may not.) I love the lamia tucked up in the branches on the left-hand side.

Sailing away to a fantasy-land of flapper beads and reliquaries!

Lichen-love.

I want these girls to be my doll-friends. I love picturing them flopped on pillows in elegant boudoirs, clutched to the
feverishly rouged cheeks of sleeping jazz-babies. Stuffed in trunks of rotting satin, awakening here – together.

I would wear this heart on my hip everyday – paying respects to Marguerite Royer rather fabulously.

I like my saints softened with pink ruffles and frills. It suits him, don’t you think?

This guy is my wax boyfriend. He’s very quiet, but I like the way he looks at me.

The perfect setting for a tea party where only absinthe, cockle-shells and silver bells are served.

La belle Gabrielle, lost in thought, more luminous every time I see her. She comes from the moon.

We ladies: myself, Gabrielle, and Mlle. Dana Sherwood.

Oh, and I can’t resist sharing my favorite picture of Miss Ekedal (age what, 16?)
I’m guessing snatched from a high-school yearbook. What a wild elf! Gorgeousness.
Go and see her:
at Gypsy Honeymoon
1266 Valencia St
(between 23rd St & 24th St)
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 821-1713

The other day, I was feeling blue. Then this strawberry tart happened to me!
It came from Enoteca, the delicious bistro down the street from where I work.
I’m pretty sure it had medicinal properties, or certainly magical powers.

I love these Japanese dolls. I think their hair is human. Some of it is falling out.

Juanita -1944- “I’ll say it again – sad, sad as hell”
Who were you Juanita? Why were you so sad, and sassy and
covered in stuffed animals? Are you wearing a romper under there,
or nothing at all? This is a page from her scrapbook. Reading all her
funny comments in white ink made me think I’d like her. Mystery people.

FROZEN MEMORIES of FARAWAY YEARS
It’s getting hot here, after a magically long and cool spring.
I’m holding out on shutting the windows and cranking the
air conditioner. Tonight, there was a thunderstorm that brought
cold air and made me remember what it’s like to feel chilly.

I bought this collection of Aubrey Beardsley books recently, because I was
so charmed by their covers. Don’t mind the old adage! I’ve already got lots
of Beardsley books, but aren’t these wonderful? I couldn’t resist. The vibrant
colors and neo-nouveau graphic design popular in the 1970′s gets me every
time. I’ve always used the Albano version of the Rider-Waite Pamela Colman
Smith tarot deck — the colors are brighter and richer, and more psychedelic!

A while back, I found this box of Beardsley matches! Oh Ali Baba! I meant
to break up the set and send boxes to friends in parcels, but I haven’t been
able to do it! It’s too good! I should probably sell it, because all I do is gaze
at it in wonder. I have a lot of useful objects that are too decorative to use.

If this box of Golden Peacock Tonic Powder wasn’t empty, I think I’d use it!

Soyons Descrets! This is my paper journal — don’t you wish you could see inside?
I’m not an especially private person (yeah, obviously) so perhaps I’ll show some
of it sometime. I’ve been trying to write in it more. One day, I want to have a tea
party where everyone brings big stacks of their journals and diaries, and puts
them all in the middle of the floor and then grabs some others at random to read.
Just a quiet party where everyone reads everyone else’s diary. Is that weird?
I don’t care! I’m nosy, and I love looking at handwriting and delving into the brains
of my friends. Also, I believe that if you have a secret that you don’t want anyone
to know, don’t write it down. Unless you burn it after, I suppose. Or you could send
it in to Post Secret. I never have any good ones. No secrets keeps me light.

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!)

These carved wooden hands are from the collection of my friend and
employer, Mr. Steve Wiman. We look forward to the Uncommon Objects
Christmas party all year long – it’s always so much fun, and there are so
many gorgeous things (and people) to peer at! We have been
attending lots of fun holiday parties – some tranquil, and some raucous,
but all full of convivial camaraderie and good cheer. We had an orphan
hexmas eve gathering for our friends Faith Delphi and Lex Land, who very
nearly share a birthday (the 24th and the 25th, respectively! So many hexmas
babies! Why, Chadling of Mon Petit Fantome has one today!
Capricorns, unite! All of these are musicians, as well!
Oh yes, and there’s also Patience Meliora, Hollybella and probably
a lot of others I’m forgetting right now. So many of my favorite people
are Capricorns, or earth-signs. Is that vain, or just a case of like attracting like?
Regardless, all hexmas-birthday darlings deserve extra special love
on their whelping day since they can get kind of shafted as far as celebrating
sans immediate family goes – so if you know one, give them lots of kisses!

Is this not the creepiest Santa ever? Well, maybe not if you go peruse
Santa, NO! (The Tumblr Experience), but beware – don’t get lost in the evil santa vortex!

(Photographer unknown to me – if it’s yours, or you know who took this one, do let me know! )

I’ve adopted the fly-agaric, or Amanita muscaria mushroom
as my official hexmas motif, and I’ve gone a bit crazy finding
wee amanita decorations to festoon my world. I also got my
sweetheart a copy of Shroom: A Cultural History of the Magic
Mushroom, by Andy Letcher, which I can’t wait to swipe from him and read!
It apparently disputes the treatise of John M. Allegro’s
The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross, which I nabbed
from my papa’s bookshelf when I was 14 (sorry Dad!)

The evidence. This year we got a real live tree – a potted
perfume cedar. Very exciting! I wonder if we ought to plant it
or leave it in the pot for next year? Anyone had experience with these?

I really wanted a Bûche de Noël covered in mushrooms this year,
but I arrived at the bakery too late! All gone to early birds, alas.

We made it through the holiday with only one major mishap, but it was
a pretty awful one. We came home the night of the 23rd, after a very long
day to discover that the evil kitties had knocked down our lovely tree,
and smashed many of my mama’s beloved spun glass ornaments.
I totally flipped out. Worst hexmas nightmare ever! Those delicate
things so precious, and to see them shattered on the ground was
so painful. I miss my mom a lot at this time of year, and enacting
wee tannenbaum rituals is a way for me to connect with her memory.
Luckily, my love is a hero. He swept up all the pieces, and put them
in a jar for me to keep, and re-instated the tree – securing it to the wall
and ceiling with twine! He really saved the day. I love him so!

Speaking of ornaments, every year at the Uncommon Objects
Christmas party, it’s a tradition to create an ornament on a theme:
this year’s was recovery – very apt for me! Mine is the gold
thread- wrapped sweetgum seed with the poppy pod sprout.

Here are the perpetrators of the tree debacle. Bad brothers.
Anyone want a couple of very ill-behaved felines?

Clearly, they need to start livin’ by this edict.
This is one of my favorite things at the Wiman’s house -
and I think it’s very good advice indeed.
DO RIGHT AND FEAR NOT, y’all!

One day, when I have a functioning oven, I’m going to be a holiday cookie
makin’ demon! It’s one of my favorite things to do! Mostly the decorating
part! How do you like my blue stars and uterus lady? Red hots for ovaries!

Oh and also, just so you know – the holidays are a time to dress your
animal friends up in your clothes. I think Grrizelda looks pretty perfect
in my sweater, don’t you? I would give it to her, but she keeps trying to eat it.

A very Siouxsie Christmas to you! I love it when she says her favorite
things about this season are the colors and the fairy-lights.
She’s so elegant, even when being pelted by plastic snow
and harangued by morons. I really wish she would adopt me.

I hope your holiday was very merry, warm + bright!
Mine was really perfect – golden and filled with good company,
songs around bonfires and pianos and a wealth of delicious
delectables (tamales, tortilla soup and queso! Hell yes, Texas Hexmas!)
I am feeling super content at the moment, and I am sending sincere
wishes that you and yours are as well – if you have some time to relax
here are some tidbits for you to peruse:
♥ More photos from this year’s Hexmas
♥ Tinsel Tales: NPR Christmas Stories
♥ Verhext’s Tinsel & Diamonds
♥ Gala’s current bevy of links + delight + magic will keep you busy
and amused even through the thickest blizzard, go peek!

& from days of yore:
♥ Happy Hexmas!
♥ Imps of Winter
♥ The Last of Winter
♥ send me your flowers of your december

Savage Lipstick, baby. Wicked red. Isn’t this just the best? J’adore.

Oh pink cupcake of death, your edible glitter was so alluring,
and yet – you were not so tasty! I could only eat half, and to my
way of thinking, there’s not much sadder than a half eaten cupcake.
A cupcake should be something you gobble up, and then immediately
start wishing for another. The cupcake glut has left us awash in inferior
specimens – but I ask you, how the hell do you screw up a cupcake?
It’s not that complicated, so when you have a bad one, it really
seems like a travesty. I’d rather have pie, honestly. Thoughts?

This beautiful embroidery on sheer lace panels made us think
of Miss Dawn from Boudoir Queen – expect to see it transformed into
a gown or fantastic bit of frippery soon, unless of course it’s gracing
the walls or windows of her legendary boudoir, eh? Ooh-la-la!

Pink stars + glad tidings to you, kittens.

Merrie, merrie! Yet another year that I for the most part totally neglect
to send out any sort of holiday cards – though I do have some now!
Ah, next year! I am really endeavoring to not neglect my correspondence
in the coming turning. Stamps, sealing wax, stationary ahoy!
I love letters, and all the accompanying accoutrements,
and I love receiving mail more than almost anything.
I was instructed in my youth that if I wanted to get mail,
I’d have to send some, and that is very true advice indeed.

What a pretty and demure (though very stained!) little belle.
I’d like to see the Gibson Girl hairstyle come back into vogue sometime.

I could not believe my eyes when I saw this Victorian blouse
covered in laceworked swastikas. I knew at once that it had
to be mine! Here it hangs in my studio, where the sun is
probably going to dry-rot it – but it looks so lovely in silhouette!

In the 1900′s (and for about 3000 years before that)
the swastika was good luck symbol used all over the world.
It’s sad and strange to me to think of how symbols and sigils
can hold so much power, and how they can be perverted
and changed to mean something quite opposite.
A lot of my recent work concerns transitive meanings,
and this delicate blouse is a good reminder of that.
By the by, my lineage and personal political views
are about as distasteful to the Third Reich as a soul
could get. Had I lived during the Holocaust, my jacket
would be covered in so many various star and triangle
patches they would have run out of room. Very glad
I live in the time I do. There are some interesting articles
about the swastika symbol out there: Wikipedia’s of
course is very thorough, and Lucky Mojo has some
great images of Victorian postcards and beadwork.
One time we had an old bottle of Swastika brand
whiskey in the store. It attracted a lot of questions,
until one day someone ripped the label off.

Grrizelda chewed my bra in half. Who could be mad at
that face for long, though? I think she did it intentionally,
as if to say, “Dang, mama! Your draws are pitiful!
Man oh man, do you need some new lingerie!”
My underthings are in a sad state of affairs.
Obviously, I’d love to have nothing but Agent Provocateur
and Kiki de Montparnasse, or especially the delicious
frippery from Hopeless Hotel, oh wouldn’t I just?
My drawers-drawer needs a makeover, people.
Send me frilly things, toute-suite! For real.
I was raised by my dad, and am not a busty lady
so I never went bra shopping until I was an adult.
I can actually still fit in my first bra ever!
I still have it! Crazy. I think I need some sort of
intervention. Is there an underwear makeover
show out there for me? Oh dear, I bet there is.

Especially when the first one was this disembodied, burnt
human hand delivered to me in a fancy marshmallow box!
Just what I always wanted! No, really – it’s true. I’m thinking
this guy was part of a medical model, judging from the
articulating spring and wires and such. Lots of those floating
around New Orleans, from whence this one came – hand
delivered by flame-haired courier, a gift from the illustrious
and beautiful Miss Nina Carolina! What a sweetheart!

Right after that, another wee giftie was delivered!
Yes, it’s a keychain from Dollywood with my name on it,
so killer. I adore Dolly Parton extremely, and one of
my lifelong dreams is to get to Dollywood sometime real soon.
My friend LuCretia went there, and how cool is she for
remembering me? I jumped up and down and squealed
and did a happy dance. If you’re in Austin, go check out
LuCretia’s bad-ass vintage store Room Service on North Loop!

Let the lustful coveting commence with this latest addition
to the very top of my good-girl wishlist: a big black rooster!
We’ve been making lots of naughty jokes about this guy,
which I won’t repeat here – in the interest of good taste, ha!

I’ve been obsessing over this folk carved shelf for a long time.
Of course, the picture doesn’t even begin to do it justice,
but you can make out the deer and the squirrels –
and at the top? Angels with trumpets. Yeah, that’s right.
This thing really needs to be mine. It’s so perfect.

I collect paraphernalia from the Order of the Eastern Star,
and I’d have to say that this giant lit up sign is the crown jewel
of any Eastern Star collection I’ve ever come across.
It’s hand-painted with flowers and arcane symbols,
and it kind of needs to live in my parlour. One day!

These guys are just creepy. I don’t want them at all, but I can’t
stop looking at them. Clowns really are disturbing (I know lots
of them, so I can say this from first-hand experience) and that
chubble head is just hilarious. Hilariously creepy! Yay.

I love these wonderful string stars. There’s quite a few of them
in the shop right now. I just went to see The Road (so amazing,
and brutal), and something about this man’s face reminds me
of an amalgam of some of the faces in that film. I loved the book,
and I thought they did a fantastic job converting in into film.

Look at this little lady, with her dirty, dour face. I love her
pensive, almost mischievous expression. How’d you get
so filthy, little boudoir doll? Somehow, I must resist her!

The eye imagery on Oddfellows gear always gets me.
Eyes, the heart in the hand, and the beehive are really
powerful symbols for me. The linked chain is great too,
symbolizing the FLT of friendship, love and truth.
This embroidery popping out against black velvet is
so strong. This tunic will be on a plane to Tokyo
soon enough, no doubt – the Japanese vintage buyers
always snap these up lickety-split. They make great
winter coats, if you wear them backwards, I find.
What are you coveting right now?
Have you been good this year?
I certainly hope so!

Turkeys are such strange birds. Ugly-beautiful,
and regal-ridiculous. Have you ever seen one flying wild?
It’s like a giant feathered cannonball shot through the woods.
Hilarious and shocking. We saw wild turkeys in Osyka Springs,
Mississippi when we used to go camping there. They are huge!
I feel bad about it, but I’m going to eat one today. Sorry Mr. Turkey!

“In the end, it seems that only the English dispensed completely
with both the American and the Indian origins of the huexoloti.
English importers dealt with the same Turkish merchants who
exported the huexoloti to Russia, to Iran, to Poland,
to The Netherlands, to Sweden, and even to India.
But the English, being English, did not need all of the pedigree
words that came along with the bird. They could not be bothered
with all of that linguistic falderal. The birds came from Turkish merchants—
“135 of the creatures bought at 4 shillings a piece” in 1555—
and, to describe what they were in his ledger,
the English importer created a new English word—“Turkies” (OED).
And, once again, the elastic vacuum cleaner that is the English language
got a new word and the huexoloti got a new and permanent name—
at least for the English speaking world.”
–“Our Turkish-American Thanksgiving Bird,”
by Larry E. Tise, History News Network

I found this, and many other fascinating Thanksgiving tidbits
from Harper’s links page. For hexmas, I plan on renewing my
Harper’s Weekly subscription. I hate the paper waste of magazines,
but I’m addicted. I read them in the bath. I have a subscription to
Interview magazine, Lucky (which was free, and accidental),
and Mother Earth News (that one is actually Colin’s, but I do
read it sometimes). Oh yes, and Cabinet Magazine, which is
my most favorite! On my subscription wishlist?
The Believer and Lula. Do you subscribe to any periodicals?

Today, I am thankful for Neko Case (among many other things,
which I shall enumerate below). She came in to Uncommon Objects
a few times this week, and totally made my day by putting us
on the guestlist for her sold-out benefit show at Antone’s.
It was my first excursion since the surgery, and it was so
great to be able to sit down and see the show from the lofty
vantage point of the nice VIP area the have up there.
I don’t think I could’ve managed being squashed in that crowd!
I’ve been super dizzy and queasy still, so I’ve been taking it
pretty slow. I’m still cursing myself for missing Larkin Grimm,
Final Fantasy and The Mountain Goats play there last week-
especially knowing now that I could’ve seen the show from
a comfortable perch! Alas, I was beat and in no condition
to be in public anyway. Soon, I hope to be fully restored
to my former powers! I’ve been getting some acupuncture,
and eating lots of magical porridges. Heal, body, heal!
The show was amazing, and Neko is so sweet and
down-to-earth. If you’re not familiar with her music, I suggest
you get to steppin’ and buy her last two albums to start out with.
I enjoyed watching these mini-documentaries her label made
to accompany those releases, do take a peek:

Fox Confessor Brings the Flood

Middle Cyclone

I’m not completely certain, but I reckon that this bit of loveliness
is from the inimitable Miss Alison Scarpulla. True or false?

(Thanksgiving, by John Currin)

I’ve been doing a lot of meditation on gratitude lately,
and really trying to absorb the immensity of richness
in my life, and find a way to properly express my thanks
for all that I have been given. Recently, I’ve been totally
overwhelmed by the response of so many kind souls
who have offered help, food, company, wishes and love
to me during this ordeal. It has been truly humbling,
and I can only hope to be worthy of that love.
I’m working on making my thanks known
(very slowly, alas!) and finding ways to
pay that love forward on to others. Many lessons
learned lately! I am so incredibly thankful for
my amazing friends and family, for my crazy little
abode, for my sweet animal companions, for my
wonderful workplace and all those in it, for good
weather, my full belly, my warm bed, and the
sweet person I share it with most especially.
I try to never forget for an instant how damn lucky I am.
Thank you to anyone who is reading this right now,
for taking the time to be a part of my life.
I am wishing that your holiday is warm and
full of magic, and that you may be extra lucky too.

(Photo by Marie Edwards)

Let’s all go roll off the roof into giant piles of leaves!
Okay, not really. At least some leaf-pile stomping should
commence today, however. It’s just barely fall, here!
The leaves are drifting down, leaving the trees naked
and bereft of their susurrations. Maybe I’ll actually
get to wear a sweater or a coat soon, eh? Bizarre.

For your viewing pleasure, from The Masters of Russian Animation,
Alexander Petrov’s Rusalka. It’s painted on glass, I believe – so stunning.
Thanks for this to the very lovely Rima Staines of The Hermitage!

A few more tidbits, to aid your digestion -
one from NPR, very beautiful insect cabinets
and story, and a few tales from the bee-log back when:

The Butterflies And Beetles Behind Evolution

Russet + Bone

Zlata klic – In that far field.

The entrancingly faded cover of a beautiful Victorian photo album.

A sequined Vodou prayer flag from Haiti, honoring Baron Samedi,
father of the Guédé, and the loa of death, sex and resurrection.

A detail from the poster for La Noche de los Brujos, which I really think
I must track down and see for myself. It appears to have quite a cult following.

I’m kind of in love with the Kembra Pfahler-esque Kali Hansa here.

Rrrrowwwr! I want to jump on a trampoline with her in leopard bikinis!

Bestia de Sangre is apparently a Filipino zombie flick, with really cute,
sad looking Gael Garcia Bernal zombie boys. They just sit around looking
baleful and picking each other’s scabs. Actually, I haven’t seen it- but that’s
what I’m imagining. Another one to add to the list! I hope I can find it…
¡HORROROSA CRIATURA CONTROLADA
POR UN INSANO CEREBRO ARTIFICIAL!

Um, what? I really don’t know. I love the expression on the lady’s face though-
it’s like she’s thinking, “No, Ramon! I couldn’t possibly make the love with you
knowing that you have a giant butt living on the back of your brain!”

Speaking of “El Sexo”, here’s some hot horse sex, in hell. Just for you.
Just a reminder, this painting is available for sale. You know you want it.
Think for a moment about all the snortin’ fillies and wild stallions you could
seduce with this hanging over your waterbed! It really is pretty special.

This is one of the very best carnival banners I’ve ever seen, and if I had a spare
$5000, you had better believe it would be mine! A girl can dream, hmm?

We had this giant preserved Alligator Gar specimen in the window at
Uncommon Objects for a little while, before it was snapped up. Wish I’d
gotten a better picture of it when I had the chance. A certain sweet someone
dropped many hints about wanting to hang it over our mantle someday…
Well, it was either the $1200 price tag, or the fact that as fascinated
as I am by these guys, they still give me with willies that stayed my hand.
Years of swimming in Texas lakes knowing that prehistoric monster fish
are brushing up against your toes is enough to induce major shudders.

Can you even handle how amazing this is? I cannot.
Oh! How I love an elk! Oh! How I love victorian errata!

Okay, gratuitous cute puppy photo snuck in for good measure!
Look y’all, she likes to sit in the hammock with me! I love her so much.

Invalid feeder + fancy cut-glass shot + teeth + star tea cup = covet!

I found this beautiful image of Miss Ruth in her coffin, covered in lilies.
Memorial photography is a tradition I wish we hadn’t lost along the way.
The back of the photograph is inscribed with the following:

“Ruth Mae Speechly – my sister
died of typhoid fever, 16 years.
August 3, 1926 in El Dorado, Ks.
buried in Forest Park, Range Line
Joplin, Mo.”