(Forest Queen by Lindsey Carr)
At last, I am rousing myself from my haze of hiding
in the tiny seed-pod cave. I have been handed a giant
mug of strong coffee (oh dear!) and am experimenting
with not taking painkillers with the aim of actually
accomplishing something for the first time in days.

If you could combine these two creatures, it would equal my current totem.
Puny and wee and not very fast. I am a baby possumsnail!
It’s hard to comprehend that nearly a week has passed.
I’ve been taking it so slow, being very cozy, and very
coddled and swaddled! My full focus has been on healing
my body and spirit, and I am happy to report that both
are fully on the mend – thanks to the handiwork of
my very talented and generous doctor and the good
wishes of all of you! I truly feel that the positive outcome
of this ordeal was brought about by all the hopeful
energy and bright light that has been sent my way.
I know that it helped me be so much less afraid,
and took a fiery broom to the fearful and cobwebby
eaves of my heart. Whoa. I know! It’s true, though.

The night after my surgery, I struggled to see the window
from my hospital bed. We turned out all the lights in hopes
of seeing flashes of falling stars from the Leonid meteor shower.
Did you catch them? It’s one of my favorite things to watch.

The outcome of the surgery was far better than
I had ever hoped: they were able to do a laprascopy,
and remove only the offending cyst/ovary and some
endometrial adhesions they found, but left everything
else in place! Hooray! My other ovary looks perfect,
also – which I am thrilled about. Apparently there are
photographs, which I haven’t gotten to see yet.
Very curious indeed to peer into my innerworkings
and glimpse me own guts! I am told that they are
very pretty. Thankfully, the recovery time has been
greatly reduced, and I hope to be back in action
very soon. I’ve been divinely supine, practicing
being very, very still and letting myself be taken
care of. My friends and family have been so kind,
bringing me food, tea, treats and flowers!
I have received so many sweet messages and
parcels that have lifted my spirits enormously.
I would like to say thank you, with every fibre
of my being, to everyone for your all help.
You have no idea what a huge difference it has made!
Everyday, I can feel my body slowly fixing itself,
stitches knitting my skin back together and
everything learning how to work properly again.

(Photograph from Margaret M. de Lange‘s book Daughters)
I feel like I’ve been out of my body for too long,
that there’s been a disconnect that’s had me out
of sorts for awhile. I feel ready to come back to it,
make friends and inhabit it more fully, more joyfully.
I can’t wait to feel ready to dance, to ride my bicycle,
to romp in piles of leaves and walk in the woods.
Soon, soon!
(p.s. As per usual lately, the provenance of these images
are mysterious to me. If they are yours, or you know who
made them, do enlighten me so I may give credit where it’s due!)

Okay so, on this coming Monday, the 16th of November,
I will be going into the hospital to have surgery to remove
a large ovarian cyst. This has all happened quite quickly,
so I’m still processing a lot of information and emotion
and have been having a pretty hard time knowing how
to deal with it. I’m very blessed in that I have an incredible
golden web of support in my friends and family. I am also
enormously lucky because I was able to qualify for a program
that made it possible for me to have a medical procedure done
that would normally cost around $25,000. I, like many of my friends,
do not have health insurance. My doctor is donating his services
to perform the surgery, which is just beyond amazing.

Ivory Anatomical Figure from the Semmelweiss Museum
(Photo by Curious Expeditions)
The doctor’s fairly sure that I have endometriosis,
and that the cyst is an endometrioma. Meaning that it’s
non-cancerous, but they still want to remove it.
Given, however, the fact that my mother died of uterine cancer-
they are taking no chances, and want to be 100% sure.
At this point, it’s unclear whether I will be having a laparoscopy
(smaller incision, less recovery time) or open surgery.
I won’t know until I wake up and it’s all done.
If it’s an open surgery (which they are preparing for),
I will be recuperating at home for about 10 days,
and then taking things pretty slow for up to six weeks.
Let’s cross our fingers that they won’t have to do it that way.

By the exquisite Sorrel Smith
The hardest part for me is reconciling
all my tangled emotions and fears of illness,
hospitals and surgery which all relates back
to what I experienced as a child, when I lost
my mother in that sterile and terrifying labyrinth.
I am very afraid, and very anxious about this –
especially since I only have a short time to prepare for it.

Healing (Photograph by Wespionage)
Seeing this image brought back an intense memory
that’s been floating around in my head during all this:
I am little, in a medicine blue changing room with my mother.
Off goes her paper robe, and she’s there in all her whiteness,
her body is like mine will be one day, but far lovelier –
she’s a pale Waterhouse naiad, dusted with freckles.
I am fascinated by the purple ink lines and diagrams
dotting her belly. I ask her, “Mommy, why did you draw
all over yourself?” and she explains to me that the
doctors drew those lines there so that they would know
where to cut. I remember being horrified. I still am.
Years of bottled up tears are suddenly sliding down
my cheeks, and every day that I’m walking through
this, I come closer to an understanding I’ve been
avoiding almost all my life. Circles and cycles
and bloody threads tying me to my past and future.
I have a deep desire to complete the circle one
day, and someday bear a child of my own.
It breaks my heart to be told that my chances
at making that a reality are reduced.
It’s really hard not to be scared right now –
the kind of fear that seizes up tight
in your throat and makes your eyes burn.
In the last few days, the loving letters and
calls from friends have been the bright
candles that have been helping me dispel
that awful feeling. I know that all this is allowing
me the opportunity to work through some old
ghosts, and I feel like a lot of the outcome hinges
on how I choose to walk through it. I’m trying
to do it with a lot of hope and an open heart.
I would really appreciate any good energy
you could send my way, especially on the
16th of November, and would love to hear
from you in the days following, because
I’m going to cooped up healing for a little while.
I hoping to feel well enough to do a lot of writing,
because it’s really helping me right now, but
please understand if it’s quiet around here.
I felt a little conflicted about being so open here,
but if we can’t talk and write about these things
then what’s the point? I consider the human body
to be an incredible machine, in all its glory and its
failings. I’m not shy about discussing its interworkings,
only fascinated – and I don’t believe in the concept of
“too much information”. No such thing in my book.

The Uterus Vase by The Plug & Stéphanie Rollin
It is bizarre to me that I’ve seen this vase
described as “erotic” or “hideous” or “distasteful”.
It’s a beautiful form, a miraculous design – I would be
thrilled to have this on my table filled with bluebells.
Every single one of us came out of a woman’s uterus.
That’s incredible, isn’t it? Picture anyone at all,
and imagine them being born. Strange to contemplate.

Speaking of, I kind of want one of these to cuddle.
Aren’t they cute? Unfortunately, they were subject
to a recall – it seems people were worried that infants
would choke on the ovaries? Or something. Jeez.

Alright, my dearies – wish me luck,
and let’s hope that all my nurses look just like that.

(Photo by Babet)
I wish I was going to the doll hospital instead.

Have you ever seen a ghost? Have you ever felt one?
Visual apparitions are rare. I waited my whole life to see a clear one.
I’ve always noticed the amorphous, ephemeral shades:
thin wispy white ones, bulbous black blobby ones, and
the darting quick grey cat ones. The human form eluded me,
until I moved to New Orleans. I hope to tell some of those stories
in the next installment. I wish I understood more about them.

Once again, I’m sorry to say that I culled these images randomly,
and have no idea of their provenance. As always, enlighten me
if you know, and automatic mad props are due to their creators,
be they living or dead. Have you ever photographed a ghost?
If so, I’d love to see it. I love spirit photography, even fakes.

This one tends to creep me out. For some reason, I always imagine
that the bannister railing is her long arm gone all stretchy. Eeep!

I see the dead in dreams. Usually it’s the dead parents of my friends,
asking me to look out for them. I think parents have a hard time leaving
this plane when their children are still here. I’ve only seen my mother
there a handful of times. I get the sense that she passed through long ago.

I’ve seen poltergeists, or more accurately,
seen objects moved or damaged by unseen hands.
It can be alarming. Also, phantom odors and sounds and chills.


☛ More more muertos y musicas attend to Verhextland: Many Ghosts
☛ Supernatural Collective Nouns from Wondermark
(thanks for showing me this, Mlle. Elizabetha et Mlle. Ghoul!)
☛ Hammer of the Witches – FOR NEGLECTED MURDERESSES
Tempting, tempting!
☛ Sea of Ghosts is another great dark/magic/elegant fashion blog that I enjoy.
Lots of inspiration and drool inducers there! My lustful wishlist is starting to grow very, very long…
☛ These ghost stories from Platform are really, really good and creepy!
Be sure to read all three parts, eh? I hope there will be more to come…
☛ Hey Austin kittens, why don’t you join me Thursday night at Lambert’s
to see Hello Lovers and Faith Delphi? It will be very wonderful, and it would
do me good to see your lovely face. We can have a whiskey and hold hands.

I am haunted by phantasms, of late-
kept company by their tittering laughter,
told stories and been diverted by
flashing eyes, white hands fluttering.
A chorus of ghost girls has come to tea.

Glittering masks and bony arms,
they’re always hungry but never
say much. They seem to be smoking,
but you can’t smell it. Strange
ladies, these friends who are
here, and not. Glamourous, grim.

Have you met them on the stair?
Long skirts snagged on a nail,
a handful of snarled hair, a scrap
of shirtwaist in feedsack flowers.

Elegant shades and spectres in tatters
and smeared makeup, blood lipstick.
Violent hues of heliotrope and azure,
shredded petal and dirty amethyst.

Ghostly girl
Too light to stand on the ground
Nothing you do is done
All I can tell
You are not real
Girl, what are you doing here
I don’t know why I am here myself
No one else seems to know
Nobody likes a spook
Or so I’ve deduced
But I have loved some ghosts in my time
But that doesn’t mean I want them around
I’d rather be lost than found
I thought I would lose my mind
But through your eyes I see
Past the billboards to the trees
And the flowering weeds
Grow through the cracks of the city
And all these things will go
And all these seeds will grow
And you’ll be home in the sky
– Ghostly Girl by Jolie Holland
You can listen to it here, if you like.

Can you imagine what it would be like
to be of their ilk? Passing through each
other when waltzing, and never tasting
the cake or the fruit of life again? For all
their allure, I’ll take my aches and every
flavor be it bitter or no. I won’t stand at
that window staring, willing it to be a door.

This is their favorite time, the twilit blue hour. Mine, too.

Do you know the song of the two sisters?
Mlle. Ghoul posted about it recently,
a funny coincidence as I’ve been thinking
about that song all the time lately. It’s one of
my favorites. My papa taught it to me, a long time
ago- I love to hear him sing it, though I prefer to
sing a different version. There are so many!

This looks like a still from El Orfanato, no? But, is it?
Any clues on the origins of this, and all the preceding
images would be very welcome. I’m afraid I don’t know
know who to attribute them all to – apologies, admiration
and thanks in advance. I always try to be good about
crediting the source of a photo, but in this electric
labyrinth, they can be hard to track down.
☛ A few years ago, I decided to go on a horror flick rampage.
I watched all the films that terrified me as a child, and
discovered some eternal favorites. You can read all
about it here: Scare Tactics
I’m very curious to know about your favorite horror movies-
I’m running out of things I haven’t seen! Any recommendations?
☛ For the last month, we’ve been watching nothing but scary movies!
On our list: Silent Hill (which I thought was great, despite being based
on a video game), Eli Roth’s entire oeuvre (can you call three films
an oeuvre? Whatever.) What else? We have Sheitan still to watch.
The French really have one over on us, as far as disturbing goes.
We finished watching Martyrs tonight, and I can say without a doubt
that it was the most disturbing horror film I’ve ever seen. Very
masterfully done, but so upsetting. If you’re affected in a lasting way
by intense films, I would perhaps caution against seeing it. Really.
The director, Pascal Laugier, also did Saint Ange (House of Voices),
which I liked. His films stay with you a long time. Hope I can sleep tonight!
☛ During Fantastic Fest here in Austin a little while back, I met a
charming Argentinian filmmaker named Andy Muschietti,
who told me about his short film “Mama”, which caught the
attention of Guillermo del Toro, who has become something
of a mentor as the film grows into a feature. I can’t wait to see
it – if the three minutes of the short film are any indication,
then we can expect a very frightening debut!
You can watch it here, if you dare: Mama
☛ The night before Halloween, we visited a haunted house,
Austin’s famed House of Torment. It was lovely, very layered
and detailed. When I get scared, I tend to laugh a lot- which
only encouraged the monsters to follow me around more.
Nothing can beat the utter creepiness of my experience
in a near-abandoned haunted house in Vienna a few years
ago, however. A story for another time, alas. Remind me later?
Let’s see, what else? I told you I wasn’t done with Halloween yet!
☛ Halloween playlists from the inimitable John Coulthart:
His lists of spooky music and voodoo music, inspiring a trip to the record store!
☛ Looking Miss Roxanne Carter’s Halloween costumes over the years
always delights me- especially her Last Unicorn, and her Marchesa Casati!
☛ Oh, and a very happy (belated) birthday to Coilhouse Magazine!
Two years, y’all! So thrilled and proud to be a part of such a fantastic thing.