Welcome. This is my blog, and you're my most coveted guest. If I seem a bit too intense, it's only because I have so much that I want to share with you, and I can see that you're eager to begin as well. So, please...make yourself at home, sip an East India cocktail (I blended the pomegranate juice myself), and sample some of my domestic and imported Arcana: useless, but fascinating information about Victoriana, Steampunk and other favoured topics; music which evokes that dark, lost Lenore sensibility; and other pleasant or, perhaps, unsettling non sequiters whispered in a darkened room. Linger long or short, leave a comment or refrain, but remember to come back soon to play a (shhhh) parlour game.
Velkommen. Dette er min blog, og du er min mest eftertragtedegæst. Hvis jeg synes en smule for intenst, det er kunfordi jeg har så meget at jeg vil dele med jer, og jeg kanse, at du er ivrig efter at begynde så godt. kan du ...føl dig hjemme, sip et East India cocktail (jeg blandetden granatæble juice mig selv), og prøve nogle af mine indenlandske o importerede Arcana: ubrugelig, menfascinerende oplysninger om Victoriana, Steampunkog andre begunstigede emner; musik der fremkalderdenne mørke, mistede Lenore sensibilitet, og andrebehagelige eller måske foruroligende, ikke sequitershviskede i et mørkelagt rum. Linger lang eller kort,efterlade en kommentar eller afstå, men husk at komme tilbage snart til at spille en (Shhhh) selskabsleg.


My photo

I love my grown children, miss all the dogs I ever had, and I cry at the drop of a hat, I believe in true love, destiny, fairness, and compassion. If I could be anywhere right now, it would be the ocean. My favorite city is New York, but I am always longing for London and craving more time in Copenhagen. I'm drawn to desolate places, deserted buildings, and unknown byways. I don't care how society perceives me as long as my gut tells me that what I'm doing is right. I am interested in paranormal things, spiritual things, historical things, and things that glow at night. I like to drink, I smoke when I write, I can't stand small talk, and despite my quick temper, I would rather kiss than fight. I'm selfish with my writing time, a spendthrift with my love. My heart has been broken so many times that it's held together with super glue and duct tape. The upside is that, next time, I won't be tempted to give away what I no longer have to give. But I will let you buy me a Pink Squirrel.


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Helvede's så Nocturne

Helvede's så Nocturne
The raw, aching sadness with which the following words were typed has been reformatted to fit your screen. No need to adjust it. All names have been expunged to protect the innocent and the willfully insane.

Nocturne in G Flat major

Chopin, darkness, light, sand and wind, starlight tread. Beethoven, love, fear, madness, redemption in the night. Liszt, waltzing widows, desperate bargains, pleasure's secret plight. Now, then, before, always, forever. Promises made on lonely beaches, celestial summer's perfect kiss, passions quenched in salty breezes, the lure of distant mist-draped heights. Bitter interlude. Final, private nocturne. Burned down like a candle. Doomed bleeding beauty. Fated sacrificial night.
To be continued...

Gentle Visitor

Gentle Visitor
And now, Gentle Visitor, won't you please lend an eye (we've worked so hard)...
We love all things dark and mysterious, macabre and obscure, odd and unfathomable. Nothing is too strange or bizarre for our little blog. And although we would never presume to offer definitive answers to the great questions of life, we shall do our best to enlighten, inform and delight our visitors with our whimsical potpurri of facts, anecdotes, trivia and informational outpourings. We strive not to offend, but to edify those who wish to reach beyond their comfort zone and touch the fabric of another time and place, and of distant, but genuine worlds and lives. As Victorian-themed blogs go, ours may not be the most austere, nor the most comprehensive, but we know what we like, and if our readers like it as well, then all is as it should be in this ramshackle corner of our own personal Victorian empire.

A Musical Note

A Musical Note: We feel that our blog is best viewed when accompanied by one or more of the following musical selections. Then again, we also feel that our blog is best viewed when accompanied by a glass of absinthe, a bite of lemon cake, and a foot massage (preferably by someone you know). So, to paraphrase the otherwise completely irrelevant-to-our-blog Mr. Aleister Crowley, "Do what thou wilt...but be open to Chopin."

And now we begin

And now we begin
"One must strive to show decorum even when scrolling." Queen Victoria, Buckingham Palace Blog, August 11,1879

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Tuesday, September 27, 2011


Yes, we're giving into our urge to perpetuate creepiness in yet another specific guise again. Seems we just can't write a serious post to save our soul, what with so much going on in our personal life these days. But we love our strange little blog and refuse to leave our readers without something to read. So here they are...the creepiest Victorian images we could find this time around, Savor, swallow, and comment...please!
Uh...Merry Christmas? Not sure if this is a real  fellow
dressed up as Santa Claus or some sort of (shudder)
mannequin, but he's about as jolly as a fibroid cyst.  Luckily,
being Victorian children, these two little beneficiaries were
probably used to a dour tint to their festivities. So let the
ho-ho-ho-ing begin and roll out the fruit cake. Skol!

Early Grandma's Boy Cabinet Photo
This Grandma and grandson probably weren't creepy in real life,
but in sepia print, they're just  little too...well, intense. Especially
the grandson, If he didn't grow up to be some sort of starched white
collar criminal, we will eat our damned bowler hat!
Not an actual Victorian image, of course, but this art piece byKevin Llewellyn captures so well the morbid, eerie sensibility that seems to characterize imagery from the era that we had to include it.
One of the many angel statues that populate Highgate Cemetery,
one of our favorite places in the whole world. We sat near this particular 
angel while sipping a covert beer on a sweltering May day last year,  and we can
assure you that she is even more lovely in person.
Victorian post mortem photography at its creepiest. The
portraits surrounding the children seem to be made for the moment. 
Words just aren't needed here. They probably weren't
much help when this photograph was taken, either.
Nothing screams "Creepy!" like a Victorian hearse, and this one
epitomizes all that is dark and dreary and midnight-tinted within
that general context. A hearse after our very own heart.
Pretty much the creepiest...and strangest...example of Victorian
post mortem photography we've seen.  Definitely inventive
 and artistic.
But, well, if it were our daughter or sister, it would be a little hard
to have around.  May she rest in piece...with her white roses.

And last but not least, we have this, a creepy little Victorian girl
playing with ravens for no reason at all. Ah, the good old days!


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