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Sunday, November 23, 2014

Graveyard Zombie

It's a bit late for wishing a Happy Halloween, but it's never too late to introduce my favorite  costume of the season: Mark Ballas' zombie from DWTS. Zombies can look quite boring. I've seen the usual soiled clothes badly in need of repair theme a thousand times. Although it's evening wear, Mark's outfit is simple; dreadfully gray checkered pants paired with an equally horrifying gray jacket; white polka dots on a black shirt and a distressed fishnet vest in dirty white that comes with holes the size a small shark can comfortably get through. His hair and makeup isn't that unusual, either. It's a well known fact that zombies are pale. It's either that they spend day and night in graves in front of a computer till they get goggle-eyed or they only get to work the graveyard shift. Mark looks pale as moonlight just like any decent zombie should, but in a delightful way as if he had taken a zombie tan that went partially wrong around his eyes and mouth. His hair, stiff as a broom, is masterfully coiffed. And he IS goggle-eyed. What pulls this outfit together and makes it unique and its wearer dignified is the way Mark brings the character to life as he dances. Take a look.


Sunday, July 6, 2014

How to Say "I Was Here"



I just wanted to enter the front door when suddenly I noticed something laying on the mat. At first sight, it looked like a neatly arranged little heap made of short pieces of knotted strings right at the center of the mat. From closer inspection, however, it looked more like a clear statement, a very personal message, left by the neighbors' highly intelligent cat. There are countless cats roaming the neighborhood, but I knew it was him. He definitely made an attempt to reach the premises and failed. He does not tolerate failure, you see. 

He is extraordinarily stylish wearing a red fur coat all year long. And now, despite our differences and an on-and-off war between us, he even made it being mentioned in my blog.

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Belts



I've realized that I am an avid collector of things. I have countless bags, among them a garish blue and a crazy red faux leather suitcase. I LOVE bags. I also collect trinkets and jewelry. It seems that my room has slowly been morphing into something between a specialty store and a mini library.

And I also have belts. A lot of belts.


-- Carol

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

New Hair during Rush Hour



De músico, poeta y loco, todos tenemos un poco
Of musician, poet and madman we all have our measure


I bought one kg of sweet cherry from an old man in the street. I gave it to Adam. I just burst into the shop, dropped the bag on his lap and rushed out right after that.

"Thank you very much," he managed to say and rushed out after me with a broad grin on his face and my hat in his hand. He handed me the hat and rushed right back.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Pobby and Dingan




"The secret of an opal's color lies not in its substance but in its absences." 
Australian Geographic, 1998


Pobby and Dingan is a story of two invisible friends and a piece of precious stone by Ben Rice. At first glance, I found the book a bit boring. And then something made me keep reading it. When I finished the book, I didn't want the story to end so I went back and read the whole thing all over again.


I've never owned a precious stone, but I played with the idea that the piece of plastic on the thrifted macramé belt was actually brown opal. I thought about how talented Ben Rice must be to write such a story, his very first work that not only won a couple of awards but was also made into a movie.


Later, I made a small inventory of some of my invisible friends: those I haven't heard from for a long time and some friendly folks I've never even met. It made me realize that Pobby and Dingan is one of the most heartwarming stories I've ever read. 


Sunday, November 3, 2013

Happy Belated Halloween!



The ghost flew out of the closet through the open door wearing the blue bed sheet I ironed yesterday.
 

 "Where do you think you are flying?" I asked.

She just stared at me and said nothing. With shaking hands, I got the camera and took a picture of her. She was gone the next minute. The only sign she left behind was the crumpled sheet lying on the floor.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

The Guys up Above My Head






Our roof had a leak. I had to call the roofers to fix it. They came early in the morning. There was much shouting and stomping and bumping and banging in the attic that lasted for hours. At one point I thought that they were going to fall through the ceiling and land on my head. 

"The battle between Rome and Sparta," shouted one of them while banging with his hammer.

"Rome and what?" shouted the other.

"I have to look up that battle," I thought.

They did a stellar job. When the rain comes the drops won't find their way through the ceiling and tap on the top of my head. As for their personal style? Nothing particular, really. They wore tattered jeans and some really old sweatshirts. 
The neighbor said that they were originally from Gythium. 

Photo by Carol