#and Joanne had an allergic reaction to it

[little-demy]

The Witch of Maguswood

Remake of my personal Doom!Hero where everything went downhill to Joanne

[tj-crochets]

Yesterday I thought I was having alarming new health symptoms while running some errands, got home, and realized that I was just having an allergic reaction to something and apparently sitting in a car in the dark with a whole bunch of bright lights going by everywhere (headlights, street lamps, signs, etc) makes the light sensitive part of the migraine hit a lot harder and a lot faster lol I am pretty much okay now but idk if I will be making anything today 

[artificialqueens]

More Than You Know, Ch 2 (Trixya) - Joanne Elizabeth

Summary: “When has it ever worked out well for the LA lesbian to lie to her conservative mother in the midwest about a fake woman?”

Trixie and her girlfriend are invited back to Wisconsin for her sister’s wedding… Except Trixie doesn’t actually have a girlfriend. She does, however, have a best friend who will do anything for her.

A/N: Sorry about the long wait! Chapter 3 is actually close to done and hopefully I’ve eradicated some of the stuff that was blocking me with this. As always, you can find me at @bringbackmygurlz or on AO3 at Joanne Elizabeth

Katya hated flying. Not just the actual flying part, but everything around it: the crowds, the smell, how everyone is always cranky, the overpriced bottles of water, the uncertainty of getting your bag back, the traffic. It was her least favorite thing in the world.

So when her alarm sounded, she was already awake and chewing on her lip while a clump of anxiety sat heavy in her stomach. Reaching for her phone, she saw a text appear.

“Excitedly dreading today! Have I mentioned how grateful I am for you? Not just for coming, but for being my best friend. See you soon!“

Katya’s damp braids dripped down her back as she rang Trixie’s doorbell. The door opened to a whoosh of strawberry vanilla and pink. Katya blinked and Trixie was gone, back towards the bathroom.

“Not ready yet, give me a second,” Trixie called.

“I brought you coffee.”

“I fucking love you.” Trixie’s head popped out from the bathroom, clutching a pink dress to her chest. Katya’s eyes trailed over her soft shoulders and the way her bra strap dug into them.

“Mmhmm,” Katya mumbled, taking a sip of her own to wet her lips.

“You look nice,” Trixie praised, coming out of the bathroom with the shapeless dress with bell sleeves on. Katya looked down at her simple black dress with cutouts on the arms and shrugged.

“Thanks. You ready to go?”

“Yep, the car should be here in like five minutes.” Katya sat down at the dining room table and looked into the kitchen, reminiscing to the first time she had been to Trixie’s apartment, before going to Sasha’s performance with her and Shea.

Trixie had answered the door with “I hope you’re not allergic to strawberries,” and when Katya said she wasn’t, she’d been ushered in with a tight hug. Katya had watched Trixie finish the frosting for a fresh strawberry cake, had been told she was in no way needed to help (much to Katya’s relief - she wasn’t very good in the kitchen), and had been given a mug of coffee.

Katya looked around, marveling at the baby pink walls and the little floral cross-stitched placemats. There was a guitar lying on the sofa, a Daisy Duck coffee mug on the end table, next to a wine glass with a ring of red at the bottom and a book called Kissing the Witch.

“You play guitar?”

“Yeah! I’ve been working on getting a new song down. Want to hear it?” Trixie used the back of her arm to brush the hair out of her face and Katya ached . She could easily fall for this woman, even after knowing her for only two months, if she wasn’t careful. But now that she was here, in Trixie’s perfectly coordinated home with its brass animals and fresh flowers, she knew with finality what she had suspected - they wouldn’t work. Trixie was too soft and sweet for Katya’s self-diagnosed rough edges. She wondered what her therapist would say about that if she was still seeing her. Regardless, it was better to keep the friend that made her laugh and feel understood than to fuck the beautiful girl with the amazing curves only to have their friendship ruined when Katya inevitably wasn’t enough for a relationship.

“Uh, sure,” Katya stuttered. Trixie finished with the frosting and placed it into the fridge.

“Okay, tell me if I’ve got it right enough for you to recognize it,” Trixie grinned. Katya nodded, subconsciously leaning forward in her chair towards the living room.

It was Landslide, because of fucking course it would be. Katya remembered sitting in her room, listening to the track over and over again, having what she now recognized as her first lesbian panic, eventually getting herself off to the sound of Stevie Nicks’ voice by humping a pillow and touching her growing breasts.

“I should set you up with my friend Alaska,” Katya blurted. Trixie stopped playing, the calm smile she wore dropping.

“What?”

“You like music, she likes music. You should get a girlfriend. I’ll set you up.” Katya wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. Her heart was beating so fast, and she needed to stop this.

“Um, okay,” Trixie floundered, putting the guitar back down, “Sure.”

“Remember when I set you up with Alaska?” Katya laughed.

“That was the worst. I was like, does she even know me?” Trixie picked up her coffee cup and took a seat next to her.

“Whatever, it could have worked out!” Katya protested.

“Not at all,” Trixie yawned. They sat there in the early morning silence, sipping coffee until Trixie’s phone beeped with the alert that their driver was outside.

Katya followed Trixie, practically blind with anxiety, from the car to the airport lobby, to the ticket counter, to baggage check, to security, to their gate. It wasn’t until they were actually on the airplane that she came out of her disassociated stupor and realized she was already in the death trap.

“Trixie,” Katya gasped, hands gripping Trixie’s arm that was buckling her seatbelt for her.

“It’s okay,” she assured, “You’re going to be okay. I got us snacks and gum and there’s cold brew if you need caffeine. I’m here.”

“Is it too late to drive?” Katya asked, lip quivering. She hated feeling vulnerable, hated that she’d completely left Trixie to maneuver the airport by herself.

“Yes sweetheart,” Trixie cooed, handing her a green lollipop, “Here. I risked my criminal record to bring this with us.”

“Oh my god, yes,” Katya moaned, unwrapping it quickly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Please prepare for take-off in two minutes,” a female voice spoke over the staticy speaker.

“We have a woman pilot!” Katya squealed, “This is good, Trace. This is a good omen.” Katya spoke with her mouth full of Pot Sucker.

“Good,” Trixie grinned, unraveling her headphones. Katya was erratically sucking on her treat when the wheels began turning underneath them.

“No,” she whispered. Trixie sighed and grabbed her hand.

“We live in an extremely advanced technological age,” Trixie reminded, lacing their fingers together. Katya placed her other hand on top of hers.

“Distract me,” she whimpered. They were picking up speed.

“Okay, so…” Trixie pushed air out between her teeth. “Yesterday at work, that girl that models came in again, you know the one I tell you about? And she’d dyed her hair pale blonde. It looked awful. So I helped her to find…”

Katya’s own inner dialogue whirred over the sound of Trixie’s voice, but the sound of it did help. Katya screwed her eyes up as they lifted off the ground, teeth clenching around the sucker.

“Want to watch a movie?” Trixie asked, stroking the top of their conjoined hands with her free one. Katya nodded, refusing to open her eyes.

“Wanna watch Big Eyes?” Trixie hummed. Katya nodded again, working her hands loose to take the sucker from her mouth.

“Thank you.”

“Least I could do for what I’m about to put you through.” Katya cracked an eye open to see Trixie smiling widely at her. Katya smiled back, which prompted Trixie into action: opening her iPad, finding the movie, setting up their watching experience.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Trixie was cuddled onto Katya’s shoulder. The steady weight of her helped ease the anxiety about flying, but her heart was still beating strongly over the feeling of soft skin on her arm.

Thirty minutes into the movie, Katya was pleasantly high. Her anxiety was altogether gone and she was hyper aware of every breath Trixie took, as it caused her breasts to expand into Katya’s ribs.

Forty minutes into the movie, Trixie was asleep. Katya had been feeling her breath steady out and then jolt awake, and it seemed that she’d finally given in. Katya experimentally paused the movie, gaining no reaction from Trixie. She slowly adjusted in her seat, letting the girl fall more comfortably on her collarbone.

What would have been fifty minutes into the movie, Katya was also asleep, calmed by the presence of Trixie and lulled to sleep by the rocking of the death trap.

Trixie jolted awake at the sound of the drink cart rolling by. Katya was still asleep next to her, so Trixie carefully lifted herself off of her friend and straightened up in her seat. She checked the time on her phone and saw that they were only halfway through the flight. She wiggled her book out from under the seat to read, but found it impossible to focus on the heavy words on the page.

Her thoughts were racing between each family member, and whether they’d believe her and Katya’s charade, and whether they’d support her, and whether or not that mattered. She felt like an idiot - for having let her mom believe this lie, to letting it continue, to roping her friend into the situation.

“Excuse me,” Trixie stopped the woman behind the drink cart as she made her way back, “Could we get two glasses of wine?”

By the time Katya roused, Trixie had been able to focus on her book.

“Did I enjoy my wine?” Katya asked, gesturing towards the empty glass in her tray table. Trixie huffed a laugh and raised her own half empty glass in a toast.  “You did, thank you.”

“You okay?” Katya’s eyes were deep blue with concern.

“Have you ever read this?” Trixie deflected, shaking her book.

“No, but I saw the play of the other one.” Katya stretched her arms over her head.

“Yeah, Kim is doing hair and makeup for the Los Angeles run. But this is um, a little harder than I thought it’d be. But I’m liking it so far,” Trixie flipped through the black and white and red pages.

“I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got an audiobook I’ve been listening to while I work out,” Katya said, digging through her messy bag for her headphones.

When they were back on the ground (which Katya handled mildly better than takeoff), Trixie’s messages began to come through, including one from her sister telling her she’d parked and be waiting inside.

“So, Maggie will be at baggage claim,” Trixie stated, “We should lay out some ground rules.”

“Yes ma’am,” Katya saluted.

“Just stick to everything as close to the truth as possible,” Trixie took a shuddering breath, “And we don’t have to like, be overly affectionate. I’m not going to push you into anything. Consent is cool, all that.” She could feel sweat start to bloom on her forehead and chest. Katya laughed loudly.

“It’s fine, Trix. I’m here for whatever you need,” Katya reaffirmed. “I just hope they like me. That’d be the gag, we fake this to make them happy and then they’re like ‘ugh I wish you’d just stayed single and lonely.’” Trixie could hear the false bravado in her voice, but appreciated the sentiment.

Trixie huffed a hollow laugh and followed the crowd out of the plane, turning every now and then to check for Katya’s presence behind her.

“Trixie!” A voice squealed, but Trixie couldn’t locate the source. Soon, her sister was hugging her, smelling completely unfamiliar yet somehow comforting. “And this must be Katya!” Trixie plastered on a grin and turned to Katya, whose eyes were wide with fear.

“Hi,” Katya blushed, “Nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but-” Katya lifted her hands full of bags in a shrug.

“Nonsense!” Maggie exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Katya’s shoulders. “It’s so good to meet you! I can’t believe Trixie actually brought a girl home!”

“Oh wow,” Trixie blinken bd.

“I’m only teasing, Tee Tee.” Maggie squeezed Trixie’s bicep and took a bag from her.  

“Don’t you dare,” Trixie cut a glare towards Katya, who had already repeated the nickname under her breath.

For the long drive back from the airport, Trixie listened to Maggie prattle on with gossip about relatives or old classmates that had stayed in town. Katya wouldn’t chime in, opting instead to watch them from the backseat and occasionally play on her phone, but Maggie was insistent about including her.

“What about you Katya? Have you ever been to Europe?” Maggie asked after a long story about their cousin’s trip to Italy and how they had complained about the pizza.

“When I was younger, we visited family in Russia.” Katya tucked her hair behind her ears. “But none of the exciting touristy places.”

“Your family is Russian?” Maggie gasped, “Wow, I’m surprised I couldn’t guess that. When did you move to America?”

“I was born here, my parents immigrated in ‘84,” Katya said. Maggie frowned, turning towards Trixie.

“Have you met them yet?” Trixie shook her head, but was interrupted by Maggie. “Is it because they’re not very welcoming? You know, in the past, Trixie has been so worried about telling us that she’s dating. You’re actually the first girlfriend we’ve met!” Maggie beamed at Katya, whose eyebrows were raising comically.

“My parents live in Boston,” she said, for lack of a response.

“Maggie, when was the first time you brought Ryan home?” Trixie asked through gritted teeth. She felt Katya’s hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. Both of the girls feigned interest in Maggie’s story, as Trixie leaned her head against the seat and let Katya rub her shoulder.

“Deep breath,” Trixie turned around and squeezed Katya’s knee while Maggie got out of the car.

“Same to you,” Katya muttered. Trixie opened her door and Katya followed suit, smoothing out her dress.

“Oh, and this is totally not where I grew up,” Trixie waved her hand around the expansive land that contained several fences and a pond. “This is Robert’s place.”

“How long has your mom lived here?” Katya followed Trixie to the door that Maggie had just gone through.

“I guess just a few years? I’ve only been one other time,” Trixie paused at the doorway. “Have I mentioned lately that I appreciate you coming?”

“I’d say no big deal, but I’ll reserve comment until this part’s over.” Trixie smiled nervously and pushed the door open.

“There they are!” Trixie’s mom called out, “I’m in the kitchen!” The door they’d come in was seemingly a mud room with deep teal walls and a stack of dirty boots and jeans. Trixie went up the stairs next to them, and when Katya reached for the bannister, she realized it was some kind of antler. She used the wall instead, as Trixie had done.

“Hi mom.” Trixie stepped gently into her mom’s space to give her a hug. Katya couldn’t see her face, but admired the way she’d tucked a blue tie dyed shirt into her white denim cut offs. She didn’t wear shoes. Katya worried briefly if she should have taken her own shoes off at the door, but Trixie hadn’t so maybe it was okay.

“And who is this?” Katya snapped her eyes from Trixie’s metallic sandals to her mom’s face. Her cheeks were ruddy and her eyes were a shade darker than Trixie’s, but they squinted the same way when they smiled too big.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Katya,” Katya extended her hand, but just like with Maggie, she got a hug instead.

“Katya, call me Valerie. I am so glad you are here. Welcome to Wisconsin! Have you ever been before?” She kept her eyes on Katya’s, but turned back to stirring a pot on the stove.

“Mom, is Ed coming tonight?” Trixie interrupted.

“No, James is sick so they’re staying home tonight. Katya, have you seen pictures of James? There’s some on the fridge.” Katya obediently went to the fridge.

“My nephew,” Trixie whispered, “Ed is my brother.”

“And there’s just three of you, yeah?” Katya spoke out of the side of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she’d know that as a girlfriend or not. She was never really good with girlfriends’ families. Trixie nodded.

“He’s precious,” Katya cooed, loud enough for Valerie to hear, “How old is he?”

“He’ll be three at the beginning of September. Do you have any nieces or nephews?” Katya shook her head.

“Val Gal! Come help me with this door,” a man’s voice boomed from below. Valerie rushed towards it.

“You okay?” Katya asked Trixie, who was leaning against an island, chewing her lip.

“This is weird,” she confessed, “She’s being normal.” Katya raised her eyebrows and pointedly knocked on the wood cabinet. Trixie laughed in agreement. A man coated in dirt and oil came up the stairs carrying what looked to be an entire tray of ribs.

“Hey there girls.” Katya saw Trixie wrinkle her nose at the tray.

“Hey, Robert. Good to see you again,” Trixie responded, not moving from where she stood. Katya followed suit, waving at him.

“Katya, right? It’s great to have you. Hope you like barbeque.” When he smiled, Katya noticed he was missing a bottom tooth. Trixie sighed next to her.

“Yeah, thanks so much for having me,” she replied warmly. Valerie came up the stairs with an arm full of beer bottles and soda cans.

“Take your pick,” she said, spreading them onto the speckled green countertop. Trixie reached for a beer and handed Katya a coke.

“So how long have you girls been seeing each other?” Robert asked as he got plates down from the cabinet. Katya jumped a little, unsure how to answer.

“Almost four months,” Trixie responded smoothly. Katya was trying to calculate that timing, but Maggie and a tall man with red hair came up the stairs and distracted her.

“We smelled dinner!” Maggie exclaimed. Katya liked that she looked exactly like Trixie, if Trixie was a skinny brunette. It made her appreciate Trixie’s curves even more.

“Hey, I’m Ryan, nice to meet you.” He extended his hand, and Katya shook it. Like regular strangers do when they meet you.

“Ryan, this is Katya, my um, girlfriend,” Trixie blushed, “Katya, this is Ryan, Maggie’s soon-to-be husband.” Katya inhaled sharply at “girlfriend” but smiled past it.

“Lovely to meet you.” Katya watched as he nodded and immediately dove into the chaos of the kitchen, helping Maggie and Valerie set the table, handing things to Robert when he needed them. Katya and Trixie stood awkwardly to the side, Katya’s anxiety picking up a little bit more. Trixie extended her hand, and Katya took it gratefully, linking their fingers together.

After dinner, of which Trixie had eaten a salad and a plate of macaroni and cheese only, and during which they’d been able to skirt a lot of awkward relationship talk by deflecting about the wedding, Katya found herself at the pond’s edge with Maggie and Ryan. Trixie had disappeared with her mother, but had whispered a promise to be back quickly in her ear.

“That was a great dinner. Does Robert cook for you often?” Katya filled the silence.

“Yeah. Robert’s great, just great,” Maggie said, twisting the cap off of her bottle of beer using the edge of her shirt, “He’s a hell of a lot better than Frank, and that’d be enough, but he’s actually pretty great on his own.”

“Frank?” Katya echoed.

“You know, the sack of shit that ruined our lives. Well, tried to. Did, for a while, especially Trixie’s.” Maggie’s lips closed around the brown glass of the bottle. Ryan reached out and put his arm around her waist.

“I - I don’t,” Katya stammered, confused.

“Surely Trixie’s told you? He was our step dad. He’s the one who used to not let us eat and scream at us and shit.” Katya’s jaw dropped, and she simply shrugged when Maggie looked to her for a response.

“I’m not surprised she’s kept it from you, honestly .She got it the worst,” Ryan chimed in, pulling Maggie tighter to him, “Remember the video thing she told you about?”

“Yeah, don’t,” Maggie warned, cutting him off. Wait, what? Katya’s heart was hammering.

“How, um,” Katya swallowed, “How long was he around?”

“About five years, til I was eighteen, so when Trixie was sixteen.”

“What happened when I was sixteen?” Trixie asked, identical beer bottle to her sister’s between her fingers.

“Um,” Maggie hesitated, “Frank left.” Katya watched as Trixie’s entire body closed in on itself. Her shoulders went up, her spine curled in, her eyes ducked down. Katya started to reach out to her, but thought better of it.

“Frank got arrested, you mean,” Trixie corrected, lifting her beer to her lips. For a few moments, all that could be heard was Trixie’s gulping. Then Lucky came bounding up, Valerie following behind.

“Anyone want key lime pie?” Her smile looked like Trixie’s, too wide for her face. Katya tried to imagine her being with someone who hurt her kids for five years, but quickly reprimanded herself - it wasn’t her place to speculate.

“Sure,” Trixie shrugged, downing the rest of the beer. Katya laced her arm under Trixie’s as they walked up the hill to the house. Trixie didn’t respond.

One piece of key lime pie turned into two and another beer for Trixie turned into several, and by the time they got to the front desk of their hotel, it was one am. The concierge was a snotty woman in her mid forties who gave them their paperwork without making eye contact, eyes zeroed in on where Katya’s hand was around Trixie’s waist to hold her up.

Their trip to their room was a silent, exhausted one. Trixie held Katya’s purse as Katya fumbled  with the key, muttering “Home sweet home” into the hotel room.

“Oh no,” Trixie said, dropping all of the bags in the doorway, “There’s only one bed. My mom, when she booked it, must have-”

“I do not want to go back to that woman,” Katya replied, shoulders drooping.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Trixie sighed, running her hand through her hair. Katya could feel her tiredness radiating off of her.

“Are you kidding? The bed is huge,” Katya motioned, “We can share.”

“That won’t be weird?” She smacked her lips.

“Not any weirder than the rest of this trip,” Katya laughed, kicking off her shoes, “C’mon, I’m tired.”

They both moved around the room quietly, taking turns in the bathroom to change into pajamas and to wash their faces. Trixie insisted on drinking a whole glass of water and peeing again because it was her “hangover magic trick.” Katya slipped under the covers last, flipping the bedside lamps off and snuggling deep under the heavy blanket while maintaining room.

“Goodnight, Katya. Thanks for coming with me,” Trixie whispered, rolling over so that her back was to the girl.

“Sleep tight,” Katya replied, contorting the pillow into a sleepable form.

Katya was jostled awake by Trixie, who was kicking her legs out and grumbling under her breath.

“Trixie, wake up,” Katya shook her shoulder, “you’re okay, wake up.”

With a gasp, Trixie was awake, sitting up and looking around. Katya laid a hand on her thigh over the blanket, but that only made Trixie jump again.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s okay,” Katya practically cooed.

“Oh, Katya,” Trixie sighed, pulling the other girl in by the shoulders into a hug. Katya quietly spit some of Trixie’s hair from her mouth, tasting the shampoo.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Katya spoke into Trixie’s chest, hands trapped in Trixie’s lap.

“I want to go home,” Trixie’s voice wavered, and Katya looked up to see a pout with a shaky lip.

“We can, if you want,” Katya assured, “We can get back on a plane tonight. Tell me what you want to do.” Trixie loosened her grip on Katya, allowing her to sit up and see the tears shining in her eyes.

“That’s…” Trixie whispered, “I don’t know.”

“Tell me what you want to do,” Katya repeated, stroking her arms up and down. Trixie let out a shaky breath.

“Will you, um, just cuddle me?” Trixie’s eyes didn’t meet Katya’s, so she missed Katya’s quick nod.

“Yeah, yeah,” Katya breathed, “Lie down, honey.” Trixie obeyed, sliding down her pillow with her back to Katya. Katya ran a hand through her hair, calming her own heart rate. She pressed against Trixie’s back, feeling the heat radiate from her. She tried to slow down her breathing, but Trixie was breathing too erratically for Katya to focus. She snaked her arm around Trixie’s waist and pulled her in.

“You gotta breathe, sweetheart,” Katya soothed, nuzzling into her hair.

“Thanks for being here,” Trixie hiccuped, and Katya could hear the tears in her voice.

“Anytime,” Katya whispered.

[tinymixtapes]

Music Review: Mount Eerie - A Crow Looked At Me

Mount Eerie A Crow Looked At Me [P.W. Elverum & Sun; 2017] Rating: 5/5 “Everybody, it’s gonna happen. You know it’s gonna happen. It happens every day. Billions and billions of people have already died. You too will die. Sing along with us, won’t you?” – Daniel Johnston, “Funeral Home” We are always dying. We die because we fight over shiny stuff. We die because we drive with our eyes on our screens or swallow the wrong things. We die because we extract ancient dead things from the ground that in turn pollute our lungs and synthesize the hydrocarbons that do us harm. We die because our country told us to, because sometimes our stomachs are denied nutrition, because sometimes it’s easier to die than to engage in culture. Of course, we most often die because our cells stop dividing — a phenomenon we equate with ageing. We get old, we die. But sometimes these cells express the opposite: uncontrollable growth and division, which can then lead to a lump, the potential for spreading, and then, sometimes, death. When my wife told me in October 2013 that she was diagnosed with breast cancer, my first thought arrived as a question. It wasn’t about what type of breast cancer, how advanced it was, or which treatments would be required. It wasn’t about how to tell our son or our family or our friends. None of that crossed my mind. As I stood there shocked and unable to mutter any sort of consoling platitude, wrapping my arms around her as she sobbed, the only thought I had in my mind was: Is this person I’m hugging right now going to die? --- My wife is fortunately still alive, but Phil Elverum’s is not. On July 9, 2016, Geneviève Castrée — Phil Elverum’s wife, artist/musician, the mother to their daughter, and his 13-year companion — died from pancreatic cancer. A Crow Looked At Me is Phil’s open-letter tribute to her, an 11-song album that details loss and grief wearily and pensively, but with a clarity of mind. Similar aesthetically to works like Dawn and Little Bird Flies Into A Big Black Cloud, Phil presents his thoughts here with stunning candor, using just a laptop and a microphone to capture his characteristically amorphous guitar lines and thin yet comforting balm of a voice. It was recorded in the room that Geneviève died in and performed mostly on her instruments. The lyrics were written on her paper. But the specifics of its sounds and details of its creation feel as irrelevant and unimportant as any “review” of it (which is why the rating above means absolutely nothing). This isn’t just an album about death. It’s an album that lives death. Death, here, isn’t simply a cessation of bodily functions; it’s an implied process: the process of dying, the process of grieving, the process of performing these processes of death and grief. It’s a testament to how death paradoxically roots itself in life, smudging our desire to concretize abstractions and couching our anxieties in the very human tendency toward wonderment: What is death? What is life? Why does her body look this way? Why do I feel bitter? What do I do now? Rather than wailing existential poetry about the universe and anthropomorphizing the elements through his typically keen, self-aware wisdom, Phil has adopted a no-bullshit, matter-of-fact lyrical approach whose trailing musings and minimalistic narratives resemble those of a diary, a memento mori that acts more like a generous reminder of death’s impact than an artful expression of it. The resulting lyrics are shockingly simplified, but utterly disarming because of it: “I can’t get the image out of my head/ Of when I held you right there/ And watched you die,” he sings on “Swims” over swaying electic guitar, strummed as if it were a nylon. On the gorgeous “Ravens,” he softly croons over broken chords: “I watched you die in this room, then I gave your clothes away/ I’m sorry.” Because Phil deliberately foregoes using metaphors and “big-picture reflections,” much of the album’s strength lies in the excruciating specificity of the domestic and the mundane: old underwear, bloody tissues, her squeaking chair, taking out the garbage, logging time and place with a journalistic rather than artistic flair. The latter loosely brackets off various moments in Phil’s grieving process, as if to ensure their transience. Reflection here is more about remembering than ruminating, Phil shifting from lyrics like “Our daughter is one and a half/ You have been dead 11 days” (“Seaweed”) to “Do the people around me want to keep hearing about my dead wife?” (“My Chasm”). There are some truly sublime moments — the verses in “Ravens,” the refrain of “Soria Moria” — that join some of Phil’s greatest melodies, but it mostly sounds like he’s feeling his way through the chords and, ultimately, letting the words shape the songs. As a result, the melodies feel decidedly less worked over, oftentimes arriving loose and lopsided, almost indistinct. This approach, coupled with his avoidance of the towering, expansive textures of his recent work, ensures we don’t get too absorbed by our own thoughts, that we don’t get overly seduced by its musicality lest we forget that “death is real,” the album’s pseudo mantra. Which is fitting: we don’t sing along to this album, we cry to it. There’s an entrenched realism in play here, a constant, weary reminder of our soggy corporeality and our oftentimes futile attempts to transcend it. Because, for Phil, it’s not just that grief flails under a “crushing absurdity,” but that it also manifests physically, with knees failing, brains failing, faces contorting, bodies collapsing. Geneviève, too, is not just a dead wife and dead mother. Before becoming “burnt bones,” “dust,” and “ashes in a jar,” Geneviève is depicted as a dying face, a body transforming, a wife chemically reduced to something “jaundiced and fucked.” Because cancer kills, sure, but the destruction happens over time. I don’t know what it was like in Phil’s household, but ours was constantly on alert, self-isolating ourselves from the world because we were terrified of germs that could derail any progress. There were unexpected allergic reactions and multiple emergency trips, fallen hair gathering in the corners of the wood floors, trivial fights and overbearing guilt and bitterness that we are still working to get through. Intimacy was replaced by hospital gowns and premature goodnights, the body ravaged by toxic medicines, the body dismembered and, later, reconstructed. It all weighed on our then three-year-old son, who at first couldn’t understand why Mom was always sleeping and why she couldn’t play with him. But time can be an asset, and on this album and in my own life, it acts not to heal, per se, but to deteriorate memory, to exploit its imprecision in order to make us remember less clearly. Death implies replacement, substitution, a clearing of space for someone else to breathe the air we breathe or buy the shit we buy or do the other ridiculous/awesome/mostly ridiculous things that humans do. But trauma, devastation, loss — they’re not things that just go away if you’re still breathing. They linger, reduced in severity over time only because they become less functional to the social whole and therefore less necessary to dwell on once grief is internalized, once it changes our composition, effectively allowing us to be “post-human in a past that keeps happening ahead of you,” as Joanne Kyger put it in the poem gracing the album’s cover (RIP Joanne Kygerb, who sadly died this week). It never feels right to “move on” from death, whatever that means, but the world does anyway, seemingly indifferent to our pain. So, we too join in — sometimes without realizing it, sometimes with an unbelievable awareness. As Phil sings on “Toothbrush/Trash”: “Today I just felt it for the first time three months and one day after you died. I realized that these photographs we have of you are slowly replacing the subtle familiar memory of what it’s like to know you’re in the other room, to hear you singing on the stairs, a movement, a pinecone, your squeaking chair, the quiet untreasured in-between times, the actual experience of you here. I can feel these memories escaping colonized by photos, narrowed down, told. My mind erasing.” I took a couple trips recently, one to visit my cousin and another to visit my aunt. But both trips were actually painful, awkward goodbyes: roughly a week after each visit, my cousin and my aunt would be dead, both due to cancer. “Auntie Shenshen died,” I told my son shortly after it happened. He paused, then replied, softly: “Don’t tell me that kind of stuff.” --- It’s not easy to hear about death, which is of course why A Crow Looked At Me is a challenging listen. Because unlike some of Phil’s earlier work, the album isn’t a simple aestheticization of death. “This new album is barely music,” said Phil in an interview with Pitchfork. “It’s just me speaking her name out loud, her memory.” But although the lyrics are ostensibly about his own experiences with death, Phil’s documentation from the frontlines of tragedy acts, in the end, as a selfless reflection of love, carrying Geneviève’s memory in and through song, letting his admiration for her override anxiety about who he is now and how he and his daughter fit in a world without her. As he put it in a note released with the album: The idea that I could have a self or personal preferences or songs eroded down into an absurd old idea leftover from a more self-indulgent time before I was a hospital-driver, a caregiver, a child-raiser, a griever. I am open now, and these songs poured out quickly in the fall, watching the days grey over and watching the neighbors across the alley tear down and rebuild their house. I make these songs and put them out into the world just to multiply my voice saying that I love her. I want it known. As listeners, we are implicated through knowing, with the understanding that interpretation and value judgments here are essentially irrelevant. The album defies being used as an accessory for identity construction, and the words — most of which are written to Geneviève herself, except the faint glimmer of hope expressed in the final track to his daughter — are too direct, too intimate, too real to foster casual or interpretive listening. With A Crow Looked At Me, Phil — who had kept much of his family life private until last year’s GoFundMe campaign — has laid himself bare, sharing a dark, devastating moment in his family’s life with an open vulnerability that’s complemented by the strength and generosity required to give voice to it in the first place. Over many songs and many albums, Phil’s primary aim has been to communicate grand ideas, to be understood, and his own perception that he’s been unable to do so without misunderstanding has always haunted how he writes — sometimes awkwardly so. As he put it in an autobiographical essay, “[T]he truth is that I am sensitive to any thematic or lyrical misunderstandings because I actually do want to get my idea across, beyond just me, and I continue to try to get my blade sharper.” But by plummeting into the depths of his own cavernous pain on this release, relinquishing the obscuring metaphors and telling “everything as it is,” he has transformed personal grief into something like a universal sorrow, grounded in a loving, caring lucidity unlike any of his other works. Those who have suffered through loss will have much to relate with on A Crow Looked At Me, but it won’t be a salve for your despair. There are no instructions here on how to deal with grief, no moralistic epiphanies or clever grandiose poetics. But it could, at the very least, help some of us better understand how grief functions in our own lives, how being reflexive about loss can help us accept that “We are all always so close to not existing at all” or offer insight into how we too can function when “someone’s there and then they’re not.” In the context of our own narcissistic pretenses and the technologies that mediate our interactions — our constructed identities, our social media performances, our avatars and their simulations — the act of being brutally honest, of being uncomfortably direct through the highly flawed, imperfect thing we call language becomes an act of boldness and, for me, a source of inspiration. This is why I’m writing not as “Mr P” in this review, but as Marvin Lin: a longtime admirer of Phil’s music and a fellow caretaker, griever, and father, scared about the future but overwhelmed by feelings of openness and kinship. And it’s helping. http://j.mp/2mX2miL

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You can’t help it: Reconsidering past decisions after a devastating diagnosis

Linus ready for a goody at a hamburger stand one week earlier than he died. He certain didn’t appear like a dog who was dying of most cancers.

It’s been practically 2 half years since we misplaced our treasured dog Linus to hemangiosarcoma. He was a candy, foolish, athletic Portuguese Water Dog and was simply shy of his 10th birthday. 

We acquired up one Saturday morning in April with plans to play on the park, then give him a bathtub in preparation for his first remedy dog go to the following day. My husband, Paul, acquired up earlier than me and I heard him say, “Hey buddy, are you okay?” Linus was laying down panting within the hallway. When we went out to the household room, Linus ambled out and dropped to the bottom. We known as the emergency vet to allow them to know we have been on our means. 

I needed to carry Linus to the automotive and into the veterinary hospital as a result of he couldn’t keep on his toes. They took him again straight away. After what appeared like an eternity, the veterinarian got here out and stated that Linus was in extreme shock and seemed to be bleeding into his stomach. I’ve a variety of pals who’ve misplaced canines to HSA, and I used to be terrified. I saved asking, “Do you think it’s hemangiosarcoma?” I keep in mind considering it was so surreal to be sitting within the vet workplace hoping that my dog had ingested poison, as a result of at the very least there could also be one thing to do about it. 

They did an ultrasound, which discovered a number of plenty on Linus’ spleen and liver.

The veterinarian reviewed our choices: surgical procedure to take away no matter tumors he may (nevertheless it was seemingly that Linus wouldn’t survive surgical procedure); attempt to sluggish/cease the bleeding and purchase a while (seemingly a few days); or make no try at remedy and let him go. I simply couldn’t consider that a few hours earlier than we have been planning for the weekend and now have been considering tips on how to handle Linus’ remaining hours or, at most, days. I desperately needed to get him residence; I didn’t need him to die in a vet workplace. We determined to attempt to management the bleeding to see if he may enhance sufficient to make it residence. The vet known as a couple hours later to say that regardless of transfusions and medicine, Linus’ clotting operate was non-existent and we would have liked to make a choice. We raced again.

We discovered Linus in a lot ache and misery that we determined we would have liked to help him depart instantly. Another scenario I by no means imagined – please, please hurry and euthanize my fantastic dog. Linus was gone in simply a jiffy. My lovely, humorous, clever, loving dog who at all times lived life to the fullest was gone.

Second-guessing, so onerous

I can’t depend the variety of instances I’ve contemplated the decisions we revamped the course of Linus’ life. Did this or that contribute to his most cancers? 

Linus had allergic reactions that started earlier than he was a 12 months outdated. We tried every part beneath the solar: elimination diets, frequent baths, varied medicines, and many others. He was on Apoquel for a while; it helped considerably along with his itching. Sometime later he developed a nasty pores and skin an infection, which we handled with antibiotics and elevated the Apoquel. A couple of months after that, I discovered some small black growths on the pores and skin of his elbow. We had them biopsied, and whereas they weren’t dangerous, the dermatologist stated Linus’ immune system ought to have prevented them from rising; the Apoquel might have suppressed his immune system an excessive amount of. We discontinued the drug; thankfully, what’s now Cytopoint was newly obtainable and we began that with success. Should we not have used the Apoquel? I don’t know. I do know that it gave him aid when nothing else appeared to help and made a drastic distinction within the high quality of his life.

Another occasion occurred about 10 months earlier than he died. He had ambled throughout a yellowjacket nest within the floor and a variety of yellowjackets stung him. I’ve by no means seen something prefer it. It was terrible. His face overrated like that of a prize fighter. The emergency vet handled him with antihistamines and a two-week course of steroids. Another immune suppressor – may which have opened the door to the most cancers? The timing makes me suppose it’s attainable. I’m not a fan of steroids, however for his scenario, I feel it was essential to help him recuperate.

A month or two later he appeared not fairly himself – a bit much less passionate about issues he normally cherished. Then he recovered. He had his annual bodily a week or two later. Everything appeared superb. I informed the vet that he had this era of a few weeks the place he was a little subdued. I stated, “You know I’m scared to death of hemangiosarcoma.” He stated we may do an ultrasound if I needed, however added that there wasn’t a lot that may very well be carried out for HSA. In the unlikely occasion that we had been capable of detect HSA at that time, a splenectomy and chemo might need purchased us simply a couple extra months. His final six months of life have been nice, and it could have been heartbreaking for us to have spent that point coping with the discomfort of remedy that might seemingly accomplish little.

On the opposite hand, I used to be comforted by the truth that for many of his life we gave Linus a uncooked, contemporary eating regimen. I cherished making his meals, and he cherished consuming it! I hope it helped him reside longer than if he had been on a completely different eating regimen. 

The multitude of questions proceed to swirl in my head and coronary heart. In the tip I attempt to remind myself that we made the perfect decisions we may on the time with the knowledge we had, at all times with the intention of offering Linus the perfect life attainable. And most significantly, we cherished that fantastic dog and loved a lovely life with him. – Joanne Osburn

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The realization struck Natalie like a ton of bricks. Her mother, Joann, had actually actually passed away of humiliation! Joann had actually seen blood in her stool almost a year before she was identified with colon cancer. Initially she told herself it need to have been those beets she consumed. Then she believed it was probably her piles, although she had actually not had a flair-up of hemorrhoids considering that Natalie's birth 52 years earlier.

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The majority of exactly what sets off asthma symptoms are discovered in your home. So we need to keep our homes always clean. Family pets might be mainly accountable for your asthma. The hair and plumes they leave can trigger your attacks. Allergen might likewise abound your house. Molds and cockroaches can likewise be the culprits. Pollens from lawns and trees can trigger allergic reactions too. They might likewise be present at your work location. You can not keep your entire workplace tidy. But you can at least keep your location tidy. You need to do your best to restrict direct exposure to these irritants.

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Have your home inspected at least when a year for mold and mildew if you have asthma. As bad as mold and mildew is for healthy individuals, it is even worse for individuals with asthma treatment because it can reduce lung function and make breathing harder. If you think you do have mold in your home, make certain to let your physician understand.

A peak flow monitor is easy to operate. It has 2 fundamental elements: a tube just like the one at the center of a roll of paper towels and a gauge. You blow into one end of television, and the gauge measures the force of your exhalation.

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You should visit more than one doctor. Despite the fact that your medical care medical professional can assist you in the standard take care of your Asthma, do not forget to visit a specialist. official website allergists, medical professionals, and pulmiologists are individuals who you wish to speak with to help fixing your Asthma issue.

Stainless is easy to tidy, and is habiiit.com/rasa-sakit-terbakar-di-perut not harmful to your bird needs to it peck or lick at it. When the very first one uses out, selecting a quality cage the very first time saves you from having to buy a replacement.

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7 Tips For Keeping Your Pet dog Warm and comfortable In The Winter

The American Hairless Terrier is actually a pleasant, active, spirited and loving breed. There are actually a lot of pet items and add-ons offered for a pet dog owner's ease and also for the dog's perk. The author of this short article, Alex De Los angeles Cruz, is actually a Pet Professional who has actually been successful for several years. Locating the kennel near a dubious tree will certainly maintain your pet off being overheated during the summer season. While cold weathers in canines perform certainly not require clinical treatment, you ought to still have actions to clear the pet of it. The cold weather will make the canine's body immune system unstable, and also this may be harmful if the canine is actually a pup or older pet dog. My buddy's mommy is actually hypersensitive, also, yet they possess a pet dog she isn't really adverse. The kind is actually a cavachon (not so serious K.C spaniel and Bichon Frise mix)as well as I'm fairly certain my mom isn't really hypersensitive either, since she met the canine. Despite the fact that you may keep your pet outside when the weather behaves, you might not want to perform this when that is actually chilly. Joanne Gallagher suggests visiting Jake's Canine Property for a large selection of Canine Jackets & Coats content that will definitely deliver your pet along with warmth and also design during the cold winter season. The following opportunity you see your canine howling and also acting up when he believes that, consider the opportunity from a pet dog training collar. This might even become worse as well as allow that dog set down your existing loved dog and that does this, you carry out not desire to possess a pet in any way. If you anticipate doing any sort of taking a trip, or even possess a vehicle and need to be capable to take your dog cage along with you, at that point this is the far better method to go. Instead of having much more than one pet crate you can use this set from the beginning. Hello my canine is actually a 2 year old collie cross and has actually recently ceased performing the bathroom on his night walk although our experts take him out for 45 mins around 9pm. The longer the wait the more danger there is from the personal injury aggravating and also being more challenging to take care of, or even making more complications for you and also your pet down free throw line. Different breeds were actually used for other points, however constantly satisfied the requirements of the users Numerous functions for pets in battle are actually outdated and no more engaged in, but the principle of the war pet dog still remains alive and also properly in present day war. Notice which paw you canine is favouring, or even he may even be reluctant to place that on the ground in any way. If your animal lives outside as well as if he discover this tough to drop his abode for the meanwhile, you could would like to look at providing insulated pet dog residence. Good squid, excellent info, however, for myself, being a baby boomer, I have to mention that I find my German Shorthair dog an outstanding selection. Given that she was a big dog and i am a small person so strolling her and showering her on my personal was virtually inconceivable, I could never stroll my first dog. I don't think FIFTY dollars will certainly obtain you a I wager you can rescue a Pom on any sort of pet dog rescue website. After that it should be actually had to his assigned bathroom place, if the canine is constantly grumbling. My canine has actually had an allergic reaction/ grass fever/ sting/ insect bites/ damaging/ chewing on his feets or physical body/ is actually swollen.

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  Body painting, or sometimes body painting, is a form of body art. Unlike tattoo and other forms of body art, body painting is temporary, painted onto the human skin, and can last several hours or many weeks (in the case of mehndi or "henna tattoos") about two weeks. Body painting that is limited to the faceis known as face painting. Body painting is also referred to as (a form of) "temporary tattoo"; large scale or full-body painting is more commonly referred to as body painting, while smaller or more detailed work can sometimes be referred to as temporary tattoos.

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 Indigenous

Body painting with clay and other natural pigments existed in most, if not all, tribalist cultures. Often worn during ceremonies, it still survives in this ancient form among the indigenous people of Australia, New Zealand, the Pacific islands and parts of Africa. A semi-permanent form of body painting known as Mehndi, using dyes made of henna leaves (hence also known rather erroneously as "henna tattoo"), was and is still practiced in India], especially on brides. Since the late 1990s, Mehndi has become popular amongst young women in the Western world.

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   Many indigenous peoples of Central and South America paint Jagua Tattoos, or designs with Genipa Americana juice on their bodies. Indigenous peoples of South America traditionally use annatto, huito, or wet charcoal to decorate their faces and bodies. Huito is semi-permanent, and it generally takes weeks for this black dye to fade.[1]

Actors and clowns around the world have painted their faces—and sometimes bodies—for centuries, and continue to do so today. More subdued form of face paints for everyday occasions evolved into the cosmetics we know today.

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 Western

Body painting is not always large pieces on fully nude bodies, but can involve smaller pieces on displayed areas of otherwise clothed bodies. There has been a revival of body painting in Western society since the 1960s, in part prompted by the liberalization of social mores regarding nudity and often comes in sensationalist or exhibitionist forms. Even today there is a constant debate about the legitimacy of body painting as an art form. The current modern revival could be said to date back to the 1933 World's Fair in Chicago when Max Factor, Sr. and his model Sally Rand were arrested for causing a public disturbance when he body-painted her with his new make-up formulated for Hollywood films. Body art today evolves to the works more directed towards personal mythologies, as Jana Sterbak, Rebecca Horn, Youri Messen-Jaschin, Jacob Alexander Figueroa or Javier Perez.

Body painting is sometimes used as a method of gaining attention in political protests, for instance those by PETA against Burberry.

Body painting led to a minor alternative art movement in the 1950s and 1960s, which involved covering a model in paint and then having the model touch or roll on a canvas or other medium to transfer the paint. French artist Yves Klein is perhaps the most famous for this, with his series of paintings "Anthropometries". The effect produced by this technique creates an image-transfer from the model's body to the medium. This includes all the curves of the model's body (typically female) being reflected in the outline of the image. This technique was not necessarily monotone; multiple colors on different body parts sometimes produced interesting effects.

Joanne Gair is a body paint artist whose work appeared for the tenth consecutive year in the 2008 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. She burst into prominence with an August 1992 Vanity Fair Demi's Birthday Suit cover of Demi Moore. Her Disappearing Model was part of an episode of Ripley's Believe It or Not!.

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 Festivals

Body painting festivals happen annually across the world, bringing together professional body painters as well as keen amateurs. Body paintings can also typically be seen at football matches, at rave parties, and at certain festivals. The World Body painting Festival in Pörtschach (previously held in Seeboden) in Austria is the biggest art event in the body-painting theme and thousands of visitors admire the wonderful work of the participants.

Body painting festivals that take place in North America include the North American Body Painting Championship, Face and Body Art International Convention in Orlando, Florida, Bodygras Body Painting Competition in Nanaimo, BC and the Face Painting and Body Art Convention in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Australia also has a number of body painting festivals, most notably the annual Australian Body Art Festival in Eumundi, Queensland, and the Australian Body Art Awards 

In Italy, the Rabarama Skin Art Festival (held every year during the Summer and Autumn, with a tour in the major Italian cities), is a different event focused on the artistic side of body painting, highlighting the emotional impact of the painted body in a live performance more than the decorative and technical aspects of it. This particular form of creative art is defined "Skin Art".

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 Fine art

The 1960s supermodel Veruschka is a much-appreciated muze for body paint artists. Images of her in the book Transfigurations by photographer Holger Trulzsch have frequently been emulated. Other well-known works include Serge Diakonoff's books A Fleur de Peau and Diakonoff and Joanne Gair's Paint a licious. More recently Dutch art photographer Karl Hammer has taken center stage with his combinations of body painting and narrative art (fantastic realism)

Following the already established trend in Western Europe, body painting has become more widely accepted in the United States since the early 1990s. In 2006 the first gallery dedicated exclusively to fine art body painting was opened in New Orleans by World Body painting Festival Champion and Judge, Craig Tracy. The Painted Alive Gallery is on Royal Street in the French Quarter. In 2009, a popular late night talk show Last Call with Carson Dalyon NBC network, featured a New York-based artist Danny Setiawan who creates reproductions of masterpieces by famous artists such as Salvador Dalí, Vincent van Gogh, and Gustav Klimt on human bodies aiming to make fine art appealing for his contemporaries who normally would not consider themselves as art enthusiasts.

Since 2005 the Australian visual artist Emma Hack has been creating photographs of painted naked human bodies that visually merge with a patterned background wall inspired by the wallpaper designs of Florence Broad Hurst. Hack is best known for the Gotye music video for the song Somebody That I Used to Know, which uses stop-motion animation body painting and has received over 800 million views on YouTube.[11] Hack now creates her own canvas backgrounds and her work is often featured with live birds, representing nature. Hack's artworks are exhibited worldwide.

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In Commercial Arena 

Many artists work professionally as body painters for television commercials, such as the Natrel Plus campaign featuring models camouflaged as trees. Stills advertising also used body painting with hundreds of body painting looks on the pages of the world's magazines every year. Body painters also work frequently in the film arena especially in science fiction with an increasing number of elaborate alien creations being body painted. One of the more notable commercial body paint artists is Syl Verberk (nicknamed 'syllie faces') who, as a two time European champion and winner of various prizes, is frequently consulted by major companies and theme parks for their advertisements and designs. Other celebrated commercial artists are Guido Daniele, Jean-Paul Bourdierand the Australian company "Human Statue Bodyart".

The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, published annually, has frequently featured a section of models that were body painted, attired in renditions of swimsuits or sports jerseys. Also Playboy magazine has frequently made use of body painted models. In the 2005 Playmates at Play at the Playboy Mansion calendar, all Playmates appeared in the calendar wearing bikinis, but Playmates Karen McDougal and Hiromi Oshima actually appeared in painted-on bikinis for their respective months.

The success of body painting has led to many notable international competitions and a specific trade magazine (Illusion Magazine) for this industry, showcasing work around the world.

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Face painting

Face painting is the artistic application of cosmetic "paint" to a person's face. There are special water-based cosmetic "paints" made for face painting; people should ask before having face paints applied what products are being used. Acrylic and tempera craft paints are not meant for use on skin and are not acceptable, nor are watercolor pencils or markers. Products not intended for use on skin can cause a variety of issues ranging from discomfort to severe allergic reactions. Just because the product is marked "non-toxic" does not mean it is meant to be used on the skin.

From ancient times, it has been used for hunting, religious reasons, and military reasons (such as camouflage and to indicate membership in a military unit). Recent archaeological research shows that Neanderthals had the capability and tools for face painting; although they are no longer considered a direct ancestor of Homo sapiens, they lived alongside them in some areas and it is a reasonable assumption that humanity has painted faces and bodies since the very beginning. Although it died out in Western culture after the fall of the French aristocracy, face painting re-entered the popular culture during the hippie movement of the late 1960s, when it was common for young women to decorate their cheeks with flowers or peace symbols at anti-war demonstrations. The popular TV variety show, Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In, featured bodies painted with comedic phrases and jokes during transitions.

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For several decades it has been a common entertainment at county fairs, large open-air markets (especially in Europe and the Americas), and other locations that attract children and adolescents. Face painting is very popular among children at theme parks, parties and festivals throughout the Western world. Though the majority of face painting is geared towards children, many teenagers and adults enjoy being painted for special events, such as sports events (to give support to their team or country) or charity fundraisers. Face painting is also a part of cosplay practice, and is enjoyed yearly by people who dress up as zombies to dance with the annual worldwide "Thrill the World" event on the Saturday before Halloween.

It is common to find if someone is dressed in an animal costume, a black nose will be added alone to give the impression of an animal face and not just body. Sometimes, a full face is added or sometimes none at all.

Most theme parks have booths scattered around where a person can have a design painted on their face. A similar activity is the application of "instant tattoos", which are paint or ink-based designs that are put on as one unit and removed by means of water, alcohol, soap, or another mild solvent. More elaborate temporary tattoos may be made using stencils and airbrush equipment

In the military

It is common in militaries all over the world for soldiers in combat scenarios to paint their faces and other exposed body parts (hands, for example) in natural colors such as green, tan, and loam for camouflage purposes. In various South American militaries, it is a tradition to use face paint on parade in respect to the indigenous tribes.

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 Temporary tattoos

As well as paint, temporary tattoos can be used to decorate the body. "Glitter tattoos" are made by applying a clear, cosmetic-grade glue (either freehand or through a stencil) on the skin and then coating it with cosmetic-grade glitter. They can last up to a week depending on the model's body chemistry.

Foil metallic temporary tattoos are a variation of decal-style temporary tattoos, printed using foil-stamping technique instead of ink. On the front side, the foil design is print

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Body paints

Modern water-based face and body paints are made according to stringent guidelines, meaning these are non-toxic, usually non-allergenic, and can easily be washed away. Temporary staining may develop after use, but it will fade after normal washing. These are either applied with hands, paintbrush, and synthetic sponges or natural sea sponge, or alternatively with an airbrush.

Contrary to the popular myth perpetuated by the James Bond film Gold finger, a person is not asphyxiated if their whole body is painted.

Liquid latex may also be used as body paint. Aside the risk of contact allergy, wearing latex for a prolonged period may cause heat stroke by inhibiting perspiration and care should be taken to avoid the painful removal of hair when the latex is pulled off.

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The same precautions that apply to cosmetics should be observed. If the skin shows any sign of allergy from paint, its use should immediately be ceased. Moreover, it should not be applied to damaged, inflamed or sensitive skin. If possible, a test for allergic reaction should be performed before use. Special care should be paid to the list of ingredients, as certain dyes are not approved by the US FDA for use around the eye area—generally those associated with certain reddish colorants, as CI 15850 or CI 15985—or on lips, generally blue, purple or some greens containing CI 77007. More stringent regulations are in place in California regarding the amount of permissible lead on cosmetic additives, as part of Proposition 65.In the European Union, all colorants listed under a CI number are allowed for use on all areas. Any paints or products, which have not been formulated for use on the body, should never be used for body or face painting, as these can result in serious allergic reactions.

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As for Mehndi, natural brown henna dyes are safe to use when mixed with ingredients such as lemon juice. However, a commonly marketed product called "black henna", is not safe to use because the product has been made by mixing natural henna with synthetic black dyes containing PPD, which can cause serious skin allergies, and should be avoided due to the substantial risk of serious injury. Another option is Jagua, a dark indigo plant-based dye that is safe to use on the skin and is approved for cosmetic use in the EU.

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Hand art

"Hand art" is the application of make-up or paint to a hand to make it appear like an animal or other object. Some hand artists, like Guido Daniele, produce images that are representations of wild animals painted on people's hands.

Hand artists work closely with hand models. Hand models can be booked through specialist acting and modeling agencies usually advertising under "body part model" or "hands and feet models".

 Disclaimer : We as team ARMAendeavor Retail Private Limited , www.chachachawdhary.com  and www.bcdtech.in don’t have any intentions to spread Nudity or Vulgarity  

 This Blog is only an effort to make society and people aware about Body paint as a Art  ,we are not responsible of any copy write or law related Issues as pictures , videos are copied ,contents are an effort of our research team .

 Author : is Well known Writer and Social and Public activist and Re noun Entrepreneur