Cortejo

So. I graduate in a few months, did you know that? Now you do.

For the past four years, I've been studying Criminology, and for the past seven days, I've been figuring out the best way to edit these photos. The event depicted is... well, it's our yearly student parade. It's probably a bit hard to explain to the unitiated in Portuguese academic traditions, but let's put it simply. The university is composed of different faculties. Each faculty has its own color (or combination of colors). And so each year, for one day in May, the students march around the city (most of them in their uniforms), in one big colorful academic pride parade. The near-graduates get to wear top hats, there are songs and games, and generally it takes everyone around six hours to walk a distance that would usually take ten minutes. Too much noise and too many people, but I can proudly say I lasted a whole three hours before calling it quits. Slow walking, man. Most certainly not my thing.

I don't know what was happening here, but I swear we didn't look that gloomy the whole time.

In which I hold my DSLR like a point-and-shoot and lose around 100% of my style cred.

"It doesn't have to be easy, it has to be worth it."

And on that bombshell... *spins chair* ...back to work.
xx

365 Days Ago: April '12

Once again, my catching-up post is late. But you see, I have been self-diagnosed with Final Semester Blues, so every slip-up will be automatically justified from here on. Just so y'all know. But then again, this time last year was actually pretty slow. The only thing I took pictures of was my haircut?




And then this dress, of course.



I remember I visited like... three stores to find it, nobody had it in my size, so I ended up bringing home an extra-small. Bad idea. I'm wearing it in the picture, but it was impossibly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, days later, I was lucky enough to find the next size up - and I made the switch. Of course, being me, I haven't actually worn the dress enough times to justify the purchase. Why does this always happen? Because I can't function with more than 10-15 pieces on regular rotation, that's why.

How about you guys? Tell me about your relationship with clothes!
xx

Puppy Love

Everyone, meet our new puppy, Crude! (because my sister likes to name dogs after petroleum, go figure)

Crude was born on March 8th, and in these photos, he was around six weeks old. It was also his first time meeting our resident dog, Bo, and realising that maybe it's not such a good idea to refuse to play with a Lab. Bo accidentally hit him with one of his mammoth paws, and the rest was a string of very terrified sounds which culminated in Crude hiding behind my sneakers. I guess that settles it: both of my dogs fail at spatial awareness.

Now, at eight weeks, he's moved into our country house for good. Surprisingly, after that rocky start, he's getting along with Bo just fine. They go everywhere together, I've seen them eat together (even if they both have separate bowls?), and they curl up to sleep together. It's the cutest thing. It's not quite as cute when Crude tries to bite Bo's tail and ears, but... I guess the Lab knows how intimidating he can look - one snarl, and Crude vanishes out of sight. I would too, because I've seen that dog turn some big bones to pieces between his teeth, and it was terrifying.

Today, Crude had another misadventure, though. We were walking along the creek, my father, Bo, Crude, and I, in that order, when the puppy tripped and tumbled into the water. It was a two, maybe three foot fall, into maybe a foot of water - but he got tangled up in some plants halfway down and I'm not sure whether that made it better or worse. He panicked, sure, and he whined a bit, but he ended up struggling to safety. Then he fell into the water, but it was cold, so he whined some more. By this point I was already on my knees to pull him up, but he kept running around. Then Bo jumped in, but alas he's so big the water doesn't bother him at all - and, you know, he can climb out. So then my father jumped in. This whole ordeal lasted a whole of five minutes, but the poor puppy was quite shaken, even though he was never in any real danger. Fast forward a few minutes and he was back in the water just because he felt like it. Okay.

On different notes, two of our mallards died, so... I am now the proud owner of four mallard "graves", which will eventually culminate in four Mallard Skeleton Projects. I'm thinking of lining up the skulls in a dainty box and using the rest of the bones for... jewelry? Bits and pieces of bigger curio cabinets? I have no idea. I should probably start an Excel page if I want to remember these guys at all.

xx

Times Like These #1

The Flea Market, this past saturday. I droped by to huh... support a friend, aka drool at the mere sight of her cake stand. This time, I fell for the pineapple brigadeiros, and I kind of regretted only buying a couple. More next time? I think so. (And by the way, if you're from Porto and you're into sweets... most people are, yeah, okay... I'd advice you to like her Facebook page, right here.)



A completely random shot of my bathroom. That rose's been there for... more than two months now. It wasn't planned - I just have this very strict, rather lazy policy of never throwing roses away (unless they start to rot, that it).



Experiments in dermatographism. Don't be allarmed, those aren't scars, and no one got hurt. The thing is, I have a skin disorder called dermatographic urticaria - it's quite common, affecting around 5% of the population. What happens is that my skin reacts to pressure in a slightly dramatic way, all red welts and whatnot. The effects last around thirty-forty minutes, and then disappear without leaving any trace. For this particular picture, I just wrote the word "skin" with the blunt end of a sewing needle, as an experiment to see how long it would last. This depicts the... three minute mark, I think? But then the word was visible for another hour or so. The upside is that needles work perfectly for this. The downside is that I tried on my chest and huh... I kept a couple of red lines over my sternum for two days. Oops?




I really like this shirt.





I also really like tea, so I took a few minutes a couple of days ago to reorganise my tea box. From left to right, we have: linden (which I don't like), the unbeatable Twinings Earl Grey, some random brand of black tea, lemon balm (which I don't like either), Twinings English Breakfast, Orange Pekoe in the visible black bag (second favorite tea of all time - and recommended by a Ciel Phantomhive roleplayer, you doubtful peasants), lemon flavored green tea in the black bag behind it, Lipton Mango & Peach, chamomile (which, go figure, I also don't like), mint (my current favorite), another random brand of black tea, a cute little tin of green tea from the Chinese grocery store, red fruits (OH GOD NO), and finally, a third random brand of black tea. Right now I'm also on the hunt for the Lipton Rose Violet White Tea, which is impossibly good... and, you know, open to suggestions.

Any tea lovers around here?
xx

A Valiant Effort

I spent my Saturday on my knees, in the dirt, digging around for the remnants of a guinea fowl we buried more than five months ago, on November 4th. It pleases me to say that we found most of the leg bones, squeaky clean, and the skull too, in a nearly perfect state of conservation - it's a miracle, how it survived my senseless shoveling. Though in my defense, I was there for a good hour, hour and a half, with the sun beating down on my neck and shoulders and my dog showing up at random intervals to causa miniature landslides around the edge of the digging site with his massive paws and his massive lack of common sense. To him, I'm sure that constitutes helping.

The downside is that the actual body of the bird was still quite late in the whole decomposition process. Blame the feathers - no one removed them out when the guinea fowl died, because no one actually thought I was planning on digging it back up. Anyway, my sister and I improvised a plucking session with our trusty hand-rakes... meaning, we pulled out everything we could before replacing the soil and saying bye-bye to the Project for a another month or two.

Meanwhile, I have cat bones to clean and hedgehog quills to pick (I found the poor thing, or what was left of it, a couple of weeks ago... it was literally just skin and quills, everything else was gone) and a mallard skull to dig up. But not right now because it's Monday and desk work calls.

Have a wonderful week!
xx

PS - In case you were wondering, the guinea fowl pictured is still very much alive. We got it, along with the now dead one, from the same person, at the same time... it just so happened that one of them died a bit too early. Cause of death, unknown. The family has already entertained the possibility that it might have been killed by some sensitive listener because let's be honest, these are fascinating birds, but they sound just like... imagine elevator music in hell... yes, exactly like that.

Plenty Of Paper

Back in 2012, I read twenty-two books. I thought that was kind of embarassing.
So for 2013, I set up a goal of fifty.

Let me tell you about the first ten.

The Little Shadows, by Marina Endicott

"The Little Shadows" tells the story of three sisters making their way in the world of vaudeville before and during the First World War. Setting off to make their fortune as a singing act after the untimely death of their father, the girls are overseen by their fond but barely coping Mama. The girls begin with little besides youth and hope but evolve into artists as they navigate their way to adulthood among a cast of extraordinary characters – charming charlatans, unpredictable eccentrics, and some who seem ordinary but have magical gifts.

Genre: Historical Fiction (20th Century Canada)
I found it: extraordinarily boring, with a handful of interesting side characters.

☆ ☆

The Ballad Of The Sad Café & Other Stories, by Carson McCullers

In "The Ballad Of The Sad Café", Miss Amelia, a spirited, unconventional woman, runs a small-town store and, except for a marriage that lasted just ten days, has always lived alone. Then Cousin Lymon appears from nowhere, a little, strutting hunchback who steals Miss Amelia's heart. Together they transform the store into a lively, popular café. But when her rejected husband Marvin Macy returns, the result is a bizarre love triangle that brings with it violence, hatred and betrayal. Six stories by Carson McCullers also appear in this volume.

Genre: Short Stories, Southern Gothic
I found it: beautifully written, but hard to follow?

☆ ☆ ☆

The Perks Of Being A Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky

Charlie is a freshman. And while he's not the biggest geek in the school, he is by no means popular. Shy, introspective, intelligent beyond his years yet socially awkward, he is a wallflower, caught between trying to live his life and trying to run from it. Charlie is attempting to navigate his way through uncharted territory: the world of first dates and mix tapes, family dramas and new friends; the world of sex, drugs, and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, when all one requires is that perfect song on that perfect drive to feel infinite.

Genre: Young Adult
I found it: disappointing and unable to live up to the hype, and also, slightly pretentious.

☆ ☆ ☆

Disturbed By Her Song, by Tanith Lee

"Disturbed By Her Song" collects the work of Esther Garber and her half-brother Judas Garbah, the mysterious family of writers that Tanith Lee has been channeling for the past few years. Possibly autobiographical, frequently erotic and darkly surreal, their fiction takes place in a variety of eras and places, from Egypt in the 1940s, to England in the grip of the Pre-Raphaelites, to gaslit Paris and to the shadowy landscapes carved by the mind and memory. The themes of youth and age stream through these tales of homosexual love and desire.

Genre: Short Stories, Fantasy, LGBTQ*
I found it: perfect, in general, but particularly perfect for those days where all you need is a blanket and an escape route.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Book Of Human Skin, by Michelle Lovric

13 May, 1784, Venice: Minguillo Fasan, heir to the decaying, gothic Palazzo Espagnol, is born. Yet Minguillo is no ordinary child: he is strange, devious and all those who come near him are fearful. Twelve years later Minguillo is faced with an unexpected threat to his inheritance: a newborn sister, Marcella. His untempered jealousy will condemn his sister to a series of fates as a cripple, a madwoman and a nun. But in his insatiable quest to destroy her, he may have underestimated his sister's ferocious determination, and her unlikely allies.

Genre: Historical Fiction (18th Century Italy), Horror
I found it: disturbing in all the right places, with really good ambience, but a ridiculously saccharine wrap-up.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Sins Of The Cities Of The Plain, by Jack Saul

Written 12 years before "Teleny", by Jack Saul and a likely ghostwriter, this account of Victorian cross-dressing and rent-boys is a legend all its own. The work draws on the author's own experiences with an all-male brothel in Cleveland Street (later shut down scandalously).

Genre: Pornography, LGBTQ*
I found it: hilarious, because those wacky Victorians had some great words for "penis".

☆ ☆

Regarding The Pain Of Others, by Susan Sontag

How does the spectacle of the sufferings of others (via television or newsprint) affect us? Are viewers inured – or incited – to violence by the depiction of cruelty? In "Regarding The Pain Of Others", Susan Sontag takes a fresh look at the representation of atrocity – from Goya's "The Disasters of War" to photographs of the American Civil War, lynchings in the South, and the Nazi death camps, to contemporary horrific images of Bosnia, Sierra Leone, Rwanda, Israel and Palestine, and New York City on September 11.

Genre: Philosophy
I found it: good with it comes to asking questions, bad when it comes to answering them.

☆ ☆ ☆

The Communist Manifesto, by Karl Marx & Friedrich Engels

Originally published on the eve of the 1848 European revolutions, "The Communist Manifesto" is a condensed and incisive account of the worldview Marx and Engels developed during their hectic intellectual and political collaboration. Formulating the principles of dialectical materialism, they believed that labor creates wealth, hence capitalism is exploitive and antithetical to freedom.

Genre: Philosophy, Politics
I found it: interesting, but like most ideological books, rather detached from reality.

☆ ☆ ☆

The Last Of The Wine, by Mary Renault

In "The Last of the Wine", two young Athenians, Alexias and Lysis, compete in the palaestra, journey to the Olympic games, fight in the wars against Sparta, and study under Socrates. As their relationship develops, Renault expertly conveys Greek culture, showing the impact of this supreme philosopher whose influence spans epochs.

Genre: Historical Fiction (Ancient Greece), LGBTQ*
I found it: too much for someone who's just incidentally interested in Ancient Greek culture, though some story arcs were actually quite good.

☆ ☆

Erotism: Death And Sensuality, by Georges Bataille

Taboo and sacrifice, transgression and language, death and sensuality – Georges Bataille pursues these themes with an original, often startling perspective. The scope of his inquiry ranges from Emily Bronte to Sade, from St. Therese to Claude Levi-Strauss and Dr. Kinsey; and the subjects he covers include prostitution, mythical ecstasy, cruelty, and organized war. Investigating desire prior to and extending beyond the realm of sexuality, he argues that eroticism is "a psychological quest not alien to death".

Genre: Philosophy
I found it: conflicting, because while most arguments are brilliant, their nuances are often impossibly problematic.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆




What about you guys, what have you been reading lately?
xx

365 Days Ago: March '12

I just realised I completely forgot about this post. I mean, can you believe it's April already? Where did these three months go? Can't say I've done anything particularly productive and or inspiring, but well, I worked hard on my internship report? That's gotta count for something.

Anyway. Let me guide you through what happened around this time, last year.




I wore a nice outfit? I mean, it looked nice back then, but I wouldn't wear it today. Because a) this has been one incredibly cold March, and b) I don't feel like wearing dresses these days.



I found this butterfly on my terrace. Most of you know I hunt and collect butterflies, but not all of them, and especially not all the time. I am selective - because go figure, I actually don't want to cause a butterfly apocalypse. So. Basically. I found this butterfly on my terrace, and I thought it was dead. So naturally, I picked it up. But no, it moved. I opened my hand to let it fly away, but it didn't. I took this shot, placed the butterfly on a leaf (yeah, I had more than just cactuses back then...), and went back to life.

Fast forward half an hour, I walked by the door and the butterfly had fallen. So I picked it up again, and realised it was still alive. So I did the only thing I could remember, fetched a small spoon, water and sugar, and tried to feed the butterfly. Believe it or not, it worked. (I actually have a photo of it? But it wasn't good so I never got to post it. I'll look for it.) A few hours later, the butterfly was gone.

I felt like I'd done an awesome deed, and besides, I got a great phot out of it.




Well, and for my sister's birthday, we went to... the border! She really wanted a photo with a foot in each country, so we worked hard on that. If you look at the first shot, on the right you have Spain, on the left you have Portugal.

If you look at the second shot, on the center you have a dead sheep. I should have brought it. The skull, at least. But back then it hadn't really hit me that I could collect bones (I don't know, it's like my brain works around timings I can't control), so... I didn't.
















On the same day, we also found... an abandoned station! The photos aren't particularly good, because, go figure, UrbEx photography is nothing like riding a bike. And I haven't exactly had the time to use it, so naturally, I lost it.

In the second-to-last shot, I was standing in Portugal. On the other side, Spain.










Without further plans, we decided to end the day in Salamanca. It's a wonderful city (I'd move there right now, if given the chance), but we got there a bit too late for proper photos outside. Fortunately, La Cure Gourmande did not disappoint, and I ended up going shutter-happy there - while I tried to work my way around one of those weird lollipops (Anise-flavoured, thank you very much). After that, I considered buying a sword in one of the many many shops that litter the downtown area, and I cursed everyone in the Art Nouveau museum for closing so early, beause I would have liked a second tour.

Well. Maybe next time?
xx