Hehehehe this was just prior to seasoning…it’s out of the oven now and it looks like an herby, George Hamilton- tanned alien 🤣

Giger's version of the chest-bursting Alien was rejected for being too turkey-like.

hahahaha… omg😳

It’s kinda light and silky? If this were more form fitting I don’t think I’d care for it but as a loose fitting frock with some leggins underneath, it’ll be nice.

Thank you so very very much!!!

Thank you! They’re a collection of little meme-y things I have made over the last decade and I was hoping all those viral shares and reposts might turn into a few coins in my pocket if I brought them to life ✨ 🤞🏻 ✨

That’s what I am trying to figure out! But aside from that, I need to stop fiddling and fumbling with the keys I’ve already got, I do know that …

Hahahahaha yep. SOB.

Thank you! I was sucked in by an Instagram ad by a place called Market of Stars!

Oh for sure!!! I am going to sparkle ridiculously ✨

What am I screaming about? Everything, nothing? Maybe just the fact that I got a really pretty dress?

I sobbed to What the Water Gave Me when I turned 40, watching her whirl and careen madly across the stage. I plan on screaming this time, loud enough to break time backwards and forwards, loud enough for every version of myself there ever was to hear.

Citrus as quartz as starshine, crystalline and remote. Grains of light-fall suspended. Psychic gossamer, sour afterimage. Florals at dawn, night’s lingering chill. The moon in your mouth, its clear eye sees all.

Image by Orazio Gentileschi

Retinal ghosts behind your eyes after staring at something bright. The quality of light more than light itself. Green stems snapped, leaf sap on fingertips. Petals pressed between glass slides. Forest floor dampness clinging to knees. Atmospheric, solitary.

Phoebe Buffay as amber confection as a trilling Bjorkian lullaby swan dress. Playful spectacle of soft golden resin folded over and over into itself, sweet baked warmth and downy impossible lightness, earnest and gorgeous and committed to the charm of taking pleasure seriously without being serious.

Amber laminated like a croissant, all folded layers, impossibly light, airy where it should be heavy and resinous. Hollow chambers of golden fluff, bird bones, plumage structured in tiers, soft but strange to the touch, not quite what you expect when you reach for them.

But the rare ones, the thieves among them, learn to pocket light and carry it home, their stolen fire echoing endlessly within soft chambers, transformed but breathing, burnished light cradled in a charred, earthy embrace.

Image: Mark R. Pugh White Rose On Fire