halloween costume ideas

Ah, fall! Ah, wreaths and cloves and corduroy trousers! Ah jacking off of lanterns! 

This evening, right in the middle of savoring the seasonally-appropriate dread of midterms, I had my annual sudden epiphany that my historically poorly-designed and suspiciously vague halloween costumes have been the result, not of lacking creative vision or craftsmanly potential, but of procrastination. Like first snow, it’s the mark of another turn of a North American Warbling Nessa around the sun. Without fail, the Nessa always experiences such a realization sometime in mid-October–and always after aforementioned procrastination has already begun. 

What results from this is an immediately brief period of brainstorming, typically accompanied by a Hot Drink and excaliburned’s Long Live Living if Living Can Be This open in a nearby tab. The ambiance is best characterized as Uplifting. Chaotic. Necessarily Evil. Aggressively Adoring. Here is a brief glimpse of my ideas so far:

cult elf: 

think santa’s isolated north pole reindeer farm commune meets emerald city. think manson family. think santa claus, mrs. claus, and a sea of sexually submissive elves lured into holiday orgies with a combination of mlm and hypnotic techniques. think brainwashed assassins targeting the naughty list. think green, gaudy, and morally reprehensible.

musichetta:

need to acquire two adorable french revolutionary boyfriends. for the purposes of this costume. obviously.

witch hunt:

oh, ho, ho. you saw ‘witch hunt’ and immediately thought the witches were getting hunted, didn’t you? well think again puritan, because these witches mastered the art of fire long before those homo erected motherfuckers discovered it in their man-caves. these witches have sharpened their broom-ends to razor sharp points and–partially thanks to an intense regimen of weight training and calisthetics–are ready to hurl them in your direction at very high speeds. ‘rise of the planet of the capes’ is premiering, ‘fear of a black hat’ has taken on a far less amusing and nostalgic meaning, and that ‘stray cat’ may be watching you just a little too closely. nobody quite knows what has spurred this hunt, but one thing is clear: broomsday has come. 

a heavy heart to carry:

obviously inspired by my dear love florence’s song “heavy in your arms”. obviously, i am now obligated to state that, JESUS I LOVE THAT SONG. imagine a person (me) clearly tattered and exhausted (ha! easy!) with a big, tortured, heavy-looking heart hanging from their neck, like a necklace, except for instead of a chain, there are interlocked arms.

or maybe interlocked hands attached to a chain because that is easier, I assume, than arms. either way I am drooling over the symbolism. delicious.  

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…tbc?

Probably. I will at least attempt to update this post with more costume ideas as they come, assuming exams do not render me effectively useless this week. And next.

challust

In honor of slutty, slutty October, I would like to announce that this evening I made a loaf of ‘My Favorite Challah’ challah. I did not come up with this name; in a beautifully fair exchange, I gave the New York Times access to my Google account data and received the secret ingredients (flour, sugar, active dry yeast, eggs, salt, and oil) in return. Thank god I did. Fondled into shape by my own bare hands, doused in a lukewarm bath of eggwash and my suitemate’s extra-extra-runny maple syrup, sprinkled with spices that suspiciously lost all flavor during their 40 minute oven stint–it is a masterpiece. Mm! I can guarantee you: Not blessing this challah is the greatest regret of the world’s shallowest rabbi. Not being this challah is the greatest lament of the Gluten Free. Over the past hour, its scent– a potent aphrodisiac–has wafted out of suite 413’s kitchen and down the hallway, a throbbing and carbohydrate mating call. Heads have turned out of doorways. Mouths are watering as we speak. Salivating, as if in thirst for some surreal, glistening butterscotch-flavored cock. Those poor souls. They have no idea. No cock will ever satisfy this lust–only the long phallic strands of my challah dough, braided together in a glorious golden plait.