demetrius, my love, scratched the shit out of my face while high on buprenorphine.  it dampened my friday night plans but made for some good work time. I still love him.

Here’s a really old one I found recently. The “slip phase” is actually over at this point.  Now, it’s cosby sweaters.

This kind of random, completely useless craft project is what I live for.  It was a pumpkin decorating contest at work and it made me want to just do crafts all day.  horah for foam!

a special thank you to my dearest Esther for contributing her pug blood to the cause.

Long ago, in the Greek isles, there was a lustful god, Dionysus,
Who was patron of the stage and vine and also alternately known as Bacchus.

From this name, the Bacchanalia is born, a festival attended solely by daughters of Eve
Who would, by divine inspiration and wine, from their senses, take an extended leave.

They dressed themselves in garments made of hides and laid garlands in their tresses
Thus assembled, they’d dance to exhaustion and tear at beasts with fatally wounding gashes

Such wild and raving zealots were the Maenads in their time,
And even as their strenuous striving was supremely sublime,

We can see today, theirs was but a dereliction of thought and reason
And today’s modern Maenad would not be given her proper title and season,
But be locked away in an asylum for deplorable societal treason.

I just got “The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and Other Stories” by Tim Burton and was inspired. And by inspired, I mean felt the need to totally jack someone else’s style yet again.

A Brief Cautionary Tale