Friday, December 31, 2010

a very lush post by angeliska whose words are beautiful and organic visceral stirring lovely. and i forgot it was a holiday.

Monday, December 20, 2010

lunar eclipse,

winter solstice

Thursday, December 16, 2010


These uploaded in such a crazy order and I cannot be bothered.

Thai Vegan is the best. If you don't like brown rice, and who does, get it there. Not only is it unusually delicious, but it comes heart-shaped.

oh my god that is snow.

peta on speed-dial.

this photo sucks, but Albuquerque glitters like a jewel (a dusky jewel) at rush hour.

why everyone in Holbrook has lobster-hands and a tail.

doing woman stuff.

Forgotten Bookmarks: A catalog of articles left in old books. That is the greatest past time ever. I have found a few interesting ones. The most amusing was a packing to-do list from the early 60s for a spring break trip to Florida or something. It was full of all of the stuffy stupid beauty articles women employed then. girdle, cold cream, curlers, garters, dress shields, but my favorite was a hastily scrawled, "b.c." Oh how too embarrassing to commit it to paper!

Sometimes they are sad, I find pressed flowers to be sad, or a photo or something. My grandmother's were always typed prayers or funeral cards.

I have the strangest collection of old personal articles, like diaries and family bibles. People started bringing them to me at one point. The archivist of family memories thrown out when a childless aunt dies. My favorite is a five year diary that I bought at an antique store when I was 15. I felt wrong about it but reasoned that if anyone else should have it, it was me. Her name was Anna Ireland and she lived in Michigan, the five years were in the early 1930s. At first she wrote faithfully every day in a cramped and spidery hand, talking about her sisters and trips to the market and her brother's friend Bill, I think. She was in love with him and the first few months of entries are so tortured and full of every detail of their extremely brief encounters. She painted such a clear picture of her predicament, watching him fretfully from a parlor window, wishing he would just come inside so she could pretend to be surprised yet indifferent. She talks about sitting in his lap one night and then there aren't many entries. Months or a year later, there is one entry, "Bill and I are married." After that, just one entry per year on their anniversary. The first year is happy, the second is worried - he is very sick with something - then no more. Poor Anna.

Monday, December 13, 2010

I am way too jealous of Pre-Raphaelite mermaid, Dame Darcy. Her comic, Meat Cake, is apparently back in print and more available than in the 90s, when I would have to dig around in bins at comic book stores and endure comic book guy attitude. I have an old suitcase full of them and I wish I knew where it was. Anyway. I read this tonight, and I want to live inside it.

I’m curious about your childhood. You mention in the introduction that you grew up in Idaho. What kind of environment was it like?
In the summers we lived on an Appaloosa horse ranch in the mountains. In the winter we lived in a craftsman house from 1902 in town (town was Idaho Falls).The beauty of the ranch (Bone Idaho, population 15) has been unparalleled by anywhere in the world I have been since.
I dreamed about it all last night, it had a crystal clear lake that the Rocky Mountains reflected in like a mirror, forests of aspen and pine trees, fields of wild flowers, running creeks with rainbow trout. We were so excited to go to the little general store once a week to use the pay phone for a dime and drink pop. It was like we lived in another age. A summer storm would come over the valley and make all the ions in the air go crazy before the thunder struck, setting fire to a tall tree and frightening the horses. Cowboys and Indians blended into the same thing, they both lived close to the land and seem to have had the same kind of concerns. The cowboy would wear beaded Indian fringe leather and Indians would wear cowboy hats. My Grandpa knew what every flower was named, every kind of bird and insect, all the animals, like they were neighbors he knew for a long time. I'll always think of him when I hear old cowboy songs that he taught me and the day we went horseback riding and he showed me a sweet water creek where you could drink right out of the ground, that water tasted like malted clear ambrosia. I have never had anything like it again. When I last went to Idaho with my brother in 2007 I went to the ranch and was walking in the woods. I felt the presence of my Grandpa very close so I called out to him, and told him I loved him. I turned around and saw a huge owl about 4 feet tall perched in a tree staring at me, I know that my Grandpa has the same kind of Native American beliefs about animal spirits, and I know this was his spirit come to visit me in the form of an owl. He blinked his eyes once slowly then turned his head around completely like owls can do, then with a 4 foot wing span flew into the woods soundlessly.


Can't find many good Meat Cake pics. What the hell. DD created or at least did first this whole whimsical witchy DIY thing. Here's her blog. Dame Darcy.

The semester is over and though it might be in my head, my life is suddenly one hundred times better. Oddly I feel sort of productive and so I signed up for winter classes. IRONIC BEHAVIOR.

Somehow Meat Cake reminds me of Nico, probably all of the warbling blonde ghosts. My friend Melissa always loved Nico and I was startled the first time I heard her voice. I fell in love very quickly and suddenly though and the songs became such a close comfort to me. If I haven't heard this song in a while, especially if I don't expect it, it catches right in my throat. It's a portal.

Saturday, December 4, 2010


When John Huston was a child, he was believed to be very ill, always on the brink of death. He was kept shut indoors, away from all stimuli, under the strictest protection of his mother. Yes, just like Colin in The Secret Garden.

At this time he was living in Phoenix. Phoenix has an extensive canal system, the earliest of which were built along the same canal route the Hohokam Indians dug out with sticks to water their crops a thousand years ago. I can't remember why he got the idea in his head, whether he wanted to swim or kill himself, but young John escaped his bedroom one night and plunged himself into a nearby canal. He swam and came to fall in the canal (Arizona Falls? Is there any other?) and swam over it, tumbling all around in the water. It was thrilling and exhilarating and a kind of fun he had never experienced. He started sneaking out every night to do this, which is when he realized that he was not going to die.

He then went on to cram an unbelievable amount of living into a normal human lifespan.

I love early Phoenix stories and I bet it was Arizona Falls. A huge concrete structure was built over the fall in 1913, just after the time that they lived here. It's gone now but I haven't been to see it.

I also love Ray Bradbury's anecdote about living in Ireland while writing a screenplay for Huston. Huston picked on him mercilessly and one night while getting drunk, he convinced Bradbury that there was a banshee outside, and scared the shit out of him. So Ray wrote a short story called Banshee in which Huston is killed by one. I'm a little scared of banshees, too. Not going to lie.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

what dark little person made these?

just some recent favorites from aleksandra waliszewska.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

a fragile cutting, tamped into earth

blogger makes it difficult, nay, impossible to upload music from one's own collection. or they did last time i checked.

otherwise i would put some of her own recitations here. poems that i didn't care about became stronger and meaningful when heard in her own voice, the interesting locations of emphasis, totally unexpected by me. her voice is deep and dark and bloody rich in ariel.

why am i given
these lamps, these planets
falling like blessings, like flakes
six-sided, white
on my eyes, my lips, my hair
touching and melting

from the night dances.

one of my oldest friends has disappeared again. he does this every six months or year. completely unbound by societal constraint, he just goes away somewhere. no call or written reply, you never know if he's dead or just gone. anyway, i think of him when i go back to my favorite old subjects. i hate the way some people will tell the same goddamned stories over and over, like a drunken alzheimer patient, but i have certain pet topics that i love to talk about even though there is nothing new to review. i think this is like sifting through old photos of loved ones.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Je T'aime Moi Non Plus

I haven't seen this. I want to. But it is difficult to find.

This scene is kind of wooden but touching. They are sort of like bizarre children here.

Anyway I love Serge Gainsbourg. I prefer the Birkin version of Je T'aime to the Bardot one even though I prefer Brigitte's voice. I don't like Jane Birkin's high-pitched baby whisper. Brigitte Bardot's voice is actually a little bit indescribable to me. Everything I think to say about it sounds stupid.

I am so glad I'm telling the internet about this instead of writing a very easy paper.

I thought he wrote this about me. Damn it! Disappointment everywhere.

Jarvis Cocker covers it in English in case anyone thought it was something sweet and affectionate as SG's voice tends to make things sound.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

i'm sorry but

no more words in the blog. just youtube links. so sry. i am so not in the mood, or i am so into editing that my finger is constantly pressed on a delete key. wherever i am, whatever i do, delete. unfortunately this does not apply to "real life" in which i do things like snap at my pregnant boss after which she cries (CRIES) and people look at me.

i love this song, so much. siamese twins from the pornography album. remember when blood flowers was going to come out and everyone was so thrilled to pieces because RS kept saying it would be like a cross between pornography and disintegration? oh my god what a liar. firstly, there is no crossing those two, what the fuck? they're completely incompatible, people just like them best. secondly, pornography is from 1980. THEY WEREN'T THE SAME PEOPLE ANYMORE. IS THIS TOO DETAILED? thirdly, blood flowers was awful times and i couldn't accept it and never went back. luckily there are like 15 other cure albums to choose from and innumerable b-sides to listen to instead.

i would have to say that pornography is my favorite cure album. #2, "show," the live album from the wish tour. we'll leave it at that.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

vegan pumpkin cheesecake. if it sounds weird, it's because it is. first draft. homemade graham cracker crust is incredible/easy as are carmelized pecans, but the filling tastes like tofu - sort of.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

because the world is cruel!

remember 1985? i don't, but "first and last and always" came out then. i love the sisters of mercy. how i love andrew eldritch's ridiculously deep voice, tremulous with feigned emotion in an eventually heart-rending song about a casual encounter with someone whose name he'd rather never know. VLAH

"i could wait a long, long time before i hear another lovesong." tell it. is this guy even alive still? wait - i don't want to know.

poor angry man.

equal parts magic and tragic

as they say.

it never ceases to amaze me how selfless parents of children are, or can be. so amazing to me. the strange link between family members is so coiled and corroded, but also profound and irreplaceable.

i can't write about my mother. it's too complicated. that bothers me.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Josh T. Pearson

so glad people like this exist.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

turn like a finned thing

I thought someone else had written it.

Taken from here. See more of the artist's work here.

slap me on the patio

I used to wear craft glitter like this on my face; eyes and cheekbones. Oh, how the neighbors looked. Things were easier then, I would laugh at them. I thought it looked fantastic.

I was going to make a post about my friend Anita's incredible photography after being inspired by another shot of Albuquerque, but it looks like she's let her flickr lapse and so I can't link my favorites. This iphone shot will have to do. I love storms and goldenrod AND zinnias.

I am all about druzies right now. There's so much incredible stuff on etsy. I kept trying to narrow my choices to 10, 5, 3. I wish I knew who made this ring.

Terribly celestial, no. Here. More incredibleness,


Amazing. Here.

Augh! Here.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Party like it's 1899

I embroidered this little calaca last year for my friend Anita. One day I will finish another, but not soon.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

poor quality photo, but recently i noticed that there are flocks of tiny parrots living in my neighborhood. love this.

Blood for Dracula

Guess who's friends with Joe Dallesandro on Facebook. Jealous?

I love Udo Kier's little baby lisp German accent. "I don't have to teach you anysing!" Favorite Dracula.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Monday, October 18, 2010

White on white, translucent

The greatest movie. Too bad I only have it on VHS. Bauhaus' Bela Lugosi's Dead plays during the opening credits which is why I initially picked it up other than needing to partake of this Bowie/vampire combination. It perfectly sets of the drama of the song. Peter Murphy is sort of playing one of the crazy chimps featured later in the movie, which opens in a Slimelight sort of goth club circa the early 80s, which contains every example of why edgier punkier goth was so terribly cool, and fleeting and possible only then. The Lydia Lunch type vamping in the fog, Deneuve pulling her cigarette away from her red mouth -

The movie is essentially the faulty love story of Deneuve and Bowie, Deneuve and Sarandon, Deneuve and all of the companions she had known through the years. She is a kind of vampire, an ancient Mesopotamian queen or Egyptian priestess who has survived into 1980's Manhattan. At no point is the plot too stupid and flowery to accept, though. Everything falls apart for her in the end, an institution that seemed like it would never end. Deneuve is so epic and beautiful. This was the first time I ever saw her, and when I saw Repulsion a few years later, I could not believe that she could possibly have been around that long.

This was also the first time I heard Schubert's haunting and lovely Piano Trio in E Flat. Intense. Also Lakme.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

just because you have a sixth finger...

what a sweet little dulcimer. and poor anne. my interest in english history is as follows: romans, tudor melodrama, and "haunted" sites. i have always had a special interest in anne boleyn based on her entry in "how did they die?" a grocery store paperback that i read as a kid. it told of her soberly steel nerves on the scaffold when the executioner, probably freaked out at having to murder la boleyn, missed on his first stroke. he cut the top of her head. anne said, allegedly, "please try again."

another reason i am interested in anne is because she was simply too much of an intense bitch to be queen to henry. she was opinionated, spoke out of turn, had an explosive temper, and constantly meddled in affairs of state. the vivacity and individualism that made her so fascinating to henry in turn caused him to hate her when she became his wife. oh the ironies of life.

lady jane seymour, the only one he considered to be his "true" wife. she died from complications of childbirth and is rumored to have been the prettiest queen in the stable, though that isn't saying much. she was pale, blonde, conservative and terribly catholic. i am thinking of angela from the office. she banished all traces of showy, lavish anne from hampton court and taught henry to embroider, about which he became particularly enthusiastic. the people liked jane, and henry officially mourned her for three years instead of his standard week and a half.

Ask Henry. this website is mildly amusing and painstakingly historically accurate as only a batshit historian can maintain. you may address questions to king henry and he will respond.

Sunday, October 10, 2010


this video kind of fixes my life. but only for two minutes! - she has disallowed embedding. fascist. but it's the best quality version on youtube.


"Here is some priceless footage of George watching the Beatles performing 'This Boy' from years before." sidenote, his child looks exactly like him. exactly exactly. I really love George's obvious enjoyment and mirth at watching the then seemingly older-than-dirt video of a past life, and singing along and all. I just love him.

oh &

i really like the name julia, and it is probably because of this song. this song makes me think of this picture, of pretty dark-haired edwardian girls spending the day at a seaside carnival, swimming in their heavy bathing costumes.

i have a paper to write, still. today. FML. i hate this fucking fucking fucking class. it's actually fairly informative blah blah blah, but i have to read excessively for it and i just do not want to. it is very dry. i am writing about article 27 of the mexican constitution, and the pros/cons of "diplomatic recognition". super fuck that. i just want to eat in bed and look at pictures of george harrison from the mid seventies on my day offfff aaahhhhh is that so much to ask!

Saturday, October 9, 2010

melt! siouxsie retropective comprised of five songs.

thinking about siouxsie lately thanks to TSY's latest or latestish post about westwood & 70s british punk fashion shenanigans.

sometimes i forget that she's some kind of cleopatra-akasha goddess, alive but made of marble, glorious and severe and compelling.

unfortches i cannot find any of the personally iconic photos of siouxsie that i counted with my eyes like rosary beads when i needed a little reinforcement back then. isn't it funny how kids deify people? i stumbled upon the blog of some 13 year old who counts (her quote) bowie and robert smith as her patron gods. it is cute and dumb and makes me jealous all at once to be able to create and live in your own little universe like that, undisturbed by outside concerns, a complete refuge made of frozen pupils and smeared lipstick.

actually, poppy z. brite addresses this teen state of psycho-love really well in lost souls. i think she is a little too outre to get proper credit for being a creative master of description, taking you to her place whether you want to go or not, and then freezing that moment in your brain for the rest of your life. obviously i am still returning on occasion. she is among the few writers to give me a physical response. that is sort of my high water mark for otherworldly incredibleness. the curious may know that the two other writers who have done this to me were EAP and anais nin. he shocked me (the black cat - but i was young, never re-read to make sure) and she made me want to throw up (birth, from under a glass bell...still upsets me).

if you are a fan, PZB is a fairly prolific livejournaler here: i stop there once in a while, but it was a particularly epic read during and following hurricane katrina, as she lives in new orleans and has all the violent visceral love/defense for the place that you would figure. really my only complaint is she talks about foie gras a lot and as you can imagine, this offends my hysterical animal-luv tendencies. i don't give a shit if other people eat meat, and you will never hear me making some shrill-ass vegetarian bitch comment to anyone about any of that because frankly i don't care and no one listens anyway, HOWEVER, foie gras is not fucking ok.
there; i said it.

i believe the internet has voted this best live performance in general, ever. i have posted it before. WATCH IT AGAIN.

this is a pretty good song but was never a favorite when i was actively listening to siouxsie. now i am in love with it. i generally find my favorite bands' earliest efforts to be my favorites. maybe they are less tainted by goals and expectations and management. i don't find this to be the case with the banshees. in fact i like the later stuff a bit more than the earlier stuff, which is a little jangly for me and just reminds me of foggy underaged goth club times. see: red light. actually, i do love that song, it's the stuff as from juju (everyone else's favorite) that i feel quite whatev about with some exceptions.

i really liked the rapture. this is from that:

melt! from a kiss in the dreamhouse. why do i keep making qualifications about not liking some siouxsie eras? that's fucking retarded. this song is incredible. dang. i feel a mega siouxsie jag coming on (even more) and me having destroyed my car ipod thing. like, fuck.

oh god i forgot how great this cover is:

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

black moon

hoo boy, new moon tomorrow. i mark the passage of time by this cycle, because what else am i going to use? the seasons and months are different in the desert. most notably, THEY FUCKING SUCK, it's feast or famine. 7 months of kill-yourself heat followed by 5 months of glitteringly beautiful leafy green chilly days.

yes, there is an app for that. this is an image of the current moon as it appears from my particular latitude and longitude. it is the tiniest sliver ever because it's new and black and obfuscated by the bracken of space. this is a good app. apparently it has a "werewolf warning," which i have turned on, but haven't experienced yet. i assume i'll get a small alarm on the next full moon suggesting i take care when wandering through the woods at night.

not necessarily for preternatural creature worries, but i need more of these outlook reminders for life. they keep my days (mostly) punctuated by efficiency and timeliness while my personal life completely unravels afterhours and i can't even remember to pay my fucking bills online.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

more tales of the communist aristocracy

oh, good. a four-inch volume of mitfordian letters for me to read instead of doing whatever i'm supposed to be doing.

i forgot that her daughter had a name other than dinky. constancia! dinky was the name of my step-mother's horse. a popular name for the small and fair.

there are so many more mitford memoirs and biographies now than there were even five years ago. what happened? was there a movie or something?

Saturday, September 25, 2010

uncanny, no?

remember scary stories to tell in the dark? the "cat's paw" story didn't freak me out, but the illustration did.