The (unfinished) painting in the back is one I did several years ago, that's a vintage embalming fluid bottle beside it, the round thing to the left is a hand mirror, and the glowing brain matter in the crystal skulls is a purely serendipitous artifact of the flash photography.
So, anyway, I was cruisin' around Boing Boing this evening (original post here) when I spotted an entry for this nesting box for birds...
...which is just delightfully creepy! I so want one!
* Relax, not real ones. Okay, part of a real one: the calvarium. Oh, and at one time I had a human fetal skull, but I gave it this one particular semi-goth woman in the hope she'd be impressed enough to sleep with me. She was impressed--she was the first and only woman I'd ever met who thought The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 was the funniest thing she'd ever seen--but not, uh, that impressed.
12 comments:
I am very tempted to take a shot at copying that nesting box. If I do, I will probably pull a mold and cast copies. If I do, you will get one.
Oh, you should! You should! And I'd pay for one! The back yard is just crying for something unusual!
The fetal cranium is on permanent loan? Jeepers Creepers! Is this the act from whence the phrase "giving skull" is derived?
@jsam:
Yeah, the fetal skull is now and has been (since 1990) in the possession of She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. The phrase "skullfuckery" comes to mind, but, truth be known, I fucked myself on that deal. Never allow unrequited lust to run one's life.
This be "bidness" with the bridesmaid from hell then?
@jsam:
Yep, (lack of) "bidness" with the Bridesmaid From Hell who, incidentally, got married in 1999.
I wasn't invited.
*snicker*
Older Bud(no)weiser. Say, I'm terrible about these things, but don't you have a mile marker coming up soon?
The big "5-3" came up and bitchslapped me on June 3. Don't you have one in September?
My day of reckonin' hits Nov 9 which will leave me the same age as my birth year. Is that important or just tragic?
"Is that important or just tragic?"
I'll be pondering THAT one for a while.
Still, deep in the crevasses of my cerebral cortex it's always the Summer of '72!
72' will never die. I wish I knew how important it would be at the time. "Oh, in a little while from now . . . "
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