and this

i am devastated that i will miss halloween in the states this year. i had grand plans indeed; it was a toss-up up between being tina turner or angus young of AC/DC. either would have been fab. it's so strange/awesome how we use the term, "I´m going to be...", as if we aren't just pretending. last year i was nigel tufnel of spinal tap. oh the righteous mullet, skeleton tee, low IQ, walking around all night saying "but this one goes to eleven"...halloween should really come at the end of every month, for serious.

i'm pretty much destroyed all around for missing fall in new england. summer is swell and all, but the month of october pretty much makes life worth living, especially when followed by seven cruel months of frigid temperatures. granted, i will be enjoying those months in a country that never sees snow, but i'd give my left tit for a steaming pile of pumpkin pancakes, a mug of fresh apple cider, and a glimpse of that beauteous foliage. and ohh shipyard pumpkinhead ale, come to mama. gagaga. for me, no season smells or feels better than autumn. perhaps it's just my fixation on nostalgia, but i can't help that i want to pick apples, roll around in piles of leaves, and stuff my face with candy corn. i love you brach's. i miss you. i need you. let us never be apart again.

it is possible that i may have predicted europe to feel more my speed (whatever the hell that means) because both of my parents were immigrants. i had always felt significantly ostracized from the norm of suburban living, whether it was the other children laughing at my nutella sandwiches or my pre-pubescent italian femme-stache or the fact that my mother forced me to give the bus driver a giant, garishly wrapped panettone every christmas, i was no suzie-high-school. but i had not anticipated for europe to make me feel so god damn american. perhaps i'm just home sick, but whereas in the states i would likely shun everything 'merican, i now find myself glorifying it. our waitress tonight told us of how she was moving to new york in a couple of weeks. ooo how great! was my response, and my face lit up at the thought of the city, the electricity, the filthiness, the crudeness. she snarled and proceeded to explain how unenthused she was to leave europe for the ughUnitedStatesugh, because really there's no comparison, gesticulating with her palms up a scale of incomparability. and then i felt stupid. and then i felt angry. and then i was consumed with the urge to curl up in an american flag snuggie and cheer myself up with disney's hocus pocus. hmph.

porto beckons

the ribeira

emotion garden plaques

restricted taxidermy shenanigans

mona thugs out with a brewsky

"future places" exhibit

street marionette

an email from jolena

so i was thinking about my halloween costume and couldn't find a non slutty marie antoinette costume for an affordable price. i decided to shift gears. i thought about what i have to work with and came up with this:

1. giant rack - check
2. blue sequin dress- check

then it dawned on me... i am going to be dolly parton. i got a giant blonde wig and a awesome pair of red cowboy boots on the way. for the small fee of $150, i'd been in the market for a pair a red cowboy boots anyway and really what better timing?!

i love taxidermy. i originally began this post with an apologetic sentence excusing this infatuation, but upon second thought i decided to retract it; enough apologies for my eccentricities. granted the concept is absolutely terrible, i get it. but with this horror comes an undeniable intrigue. i recall sitting in my grandmother's living room for hours when i was a child, staring at the taxidermied deer head that hung over her mantle. i was endlessly distracted from my television shows, from the snack i was consuming, from whatever business i needed to conduct in that room. all because of those eyes, glassy and so unbearably pitiful, glaring at me always. this preoccupation reached all-time intensity when my uncle went ahead and hung his gold bocce ball medals around the deer's neck (yes, bocce ball). from that point forward i couldn't help but feel as though i'd done something wrong.


yesterday we paid a visit to porto's museum of natural history. there was absolutely no one working or monitoring anything. if i wanted to ride the mountain lion, i most certainly could have. the place smelled of moth balls and formaldehyde and feces. literally the entire exhibit was of taxidermied animals with little to no explanations, and barely legible tags. with each phase of this experience, the exhibits became increasing less and less organized and exceeding more chaotic. it began with a few animals: a sloth, koala, a couple of macaws. OK. then, two giant walls of insects. next, a wall of monkeys, and an entire room of birds. the next room was slightly more cluttered: wolves, deer, more birds. the next room was locked, but looked promising. we left for five minutes and when we returned, a field trip group of middle schoolers seemed to have barbarically broken through the door, and were well on their way to posing for camera phone shots beside their dead animal of choice. the room was packed and so poorly planned that one needed to weave in and out of of a giant whale skeleton, and island cases of taxidermied seals and alligators to view the wall displays. the wall displays, however, were no disappointment. to see zebra, twenty species of rodents, various types of jungle cat, and giant polar bears all existing in harmony was a real treat. what a lovely little ghost zoo, sheesh. not to get too animal whisperer like here, but let's just say the mood of the room was...well...heavy.

afterward, we snuck into the attic because we could. the staircase up was completely drenched in bird shit and the half of the room was missing roof. the other half contained the amount and variety of animals shown in the entire exhibit, but all out in the open, piled on top of one another, crammed into unlocked cases, onto broken shelving units, and strewn about on the floor. though i was shitting twelve bricks and half expected an attack of zombie animals, this was maybe the most incredible thing i have ever seen. it took a lot of will power not to snatch up a furry friend of my own; i could use the company in my new barren apartment.

these images are by a british artist named angela singer. she is an animal rights activist and creates most of her pieces by recylcing old hunting taxidermy. her art is a shockingly beautiful commentary on the closeness between humans and the animal world.

harem pants + external catheter = genius??

dear europe,

please stop it with the harem pants. this is not alright. your women all look as if they have exceeded the crap capacity of their adult diapers. this is truly a fashion tragedy. if giorgio armani and ralph lauren were to stitch me a custom pair with their very own genius fingers, i would use them as a schmata to clean my floors. please advise.

fondly yours,
kiki