the last story in this episode of this american life made me shiver with recognition. there’s the normalcy of your home life, the accepted norm of your outside life, and sometimes you have to invent another life to bridge the two.
unlike the siblings in this story, i was lucky and happy, because i knew i was loved. i never even experienced a rebellious phase against my parents, because i could never let my dad feel i looked down on him; when his loneliness and weakness were obvious, i felt sad and powerless.

i’ve made mandrake bobos.

each is a brooch, a crudely stitched bewitchment, which wards off vampires, boogeymen, rush limbaugheymen, himalayan snowmen, chupacabras, ectoplasmic highwaymen, and tiny water elephants. here is a detail from a bag i sewed to deliver the mandrakes and complete the narrative.

here are more samples of sewn objects, for other deliveries.

i want to recall a story i heard…
i am certain i heard this story from another human and did not hear it from myself… from inside my own brain… >_>;
……it was a heartwarming bedtime story about a chinese vampire with white fur who fellated monks to death without permission!! i wish i could recall the rest of the story, but naturally i’ve only remembered the fur and the fellatio.