rookinherrookery - Tumblr blog

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Patrick Demarchelier - Nadja Auermann (Harper's Bazaar 1994)

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The building of rage

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Source details and larger version.

If you like fairies or are one, here’s my current collection of vintage fairy imagery.

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Source details and larger version.

If you like fairies or are one, here’s my current collection of vintage fairy imagery.

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Source details and larger version.

My collection of vintage pigs features a good many flying pigs, too.

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Source details and larger version.

Monsters of every stripe are collected here.

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“The worm drives helically through the wood And does not know the dust left in the bore Once made the table integral and good; And suddenly the crystal hits the floor. Electrons find their paths in subtle ways, A massless eddy in a trail of smoke; The names of lovers, light of other days— Perhaps you will not miss them. That’s the joke. The universe winds down. That’s how it’s made. But memory is everything to lose; Although some of the colors have to fade, Do not believe you’ll get the chance to choose. Regret, by definition, comes too late; Say what you mean. Bear witness. Iterate.”

— Against Entropy, by John M. Ford

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Ro-Mo. Your windows are still mirrored; taunt me not, But show your colors, dare to challenge me, These lips are two shaped charges, primed and hot, That wait the go-code for delivery.

J-Cap. The flag is to the deadly, not the loud, Yet aim as well as posing shows in this; The worthy throwdown’s always to the proud, And hammer down is how the hard girls kiss.

Ro-Mo. My draft is stopped; I struggle toward the clutch.

J-Cap. And would a charge of nitrous make thee run?

Ro-Mo. Too much; but what else is there but too much? Let me take arms, and elevate the gun.

J-Cap. Small arms but hint what demolitions say.

Ro-Mo. Then, gunner, gimme one round.

J-Cap. On the way.

—John M Ford, Verona Total Breakdown (Liebestod)

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Gespenster Auf Dem Baum - Frenz Sedlacek - 1933 -

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Carnival of Souls (1962) dir. Herk Harvey

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Vintage women being badass. You’re welcome.

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Fascinating! I still havea copy of “How Much for Just the Planet?” somewhere. It’s banana’s, and barely Star Trek, and somehow VERY Star Trek

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“Bors arrives behind steam, riding the cab of a heavy Mikado. He shakes the driver’s hand, swings down from the footplate, And is like a locomotive himself, his breath clouding white, Dark oil sheen on his black iron mail, Sword on his hip swinging like siderods at speed. He stamps back to the baggage car, slams mailed fist on steel door With a clang like jousters colliding. The handler opens up and goes to rouse another knight. Old Pellinore has been dozing with his back against a crate, A cubical, chain-bound thing with FRAGILE tags and air holes, BEAST says the label, QUESTING, 1 the bill of lading. The porters look doubtful but ease the thing down. It grumbles. It shifts. Someone shouts, and they drop it. It cracks like an egg. There is nothing within.”

— excerpt from “Winter Solstice, Camelot Station” by John M. Ford

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Yesterday, I saw this lovely art by Tristan Elwell on the cover of Goddess of Yesterday by Caroline B. Cooney.

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Tristan Elwell