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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Friday, September 2, 2011

Labor Day Weekend Creeptorium

Creepy deltager

We have always been afraid of mannequins because we believe that they come to life at night and do things we don't want to know about. Nevertheless, we find them strangely fascinating. Here are some images that caught our wary eye.

Vintage French hand. Gawked at on

Famous vintage mannequins. Who knew? Gawked at on
The same site features information about leather mannequins.
There's a whole mannequin universe, apparently. This does
not make us any less afraid.

Words are superfluous. Gawked at on
Part of a photographic series on mannequins, but that's no excuse.

Oh, please. What's with the supernormal mouth?
Are the mannequin people trying to give us nightmares?
Gawked at on
French vintage mannequin head. The hair is real.
Pass the smelling salts, please.
More French vintage. Too real. Too real. TOO REAL.
Gawked at on
These headless mannequins seem a bit more like art than mass
produced  monsters. Gawked at on

          No, no, no, no, NO. Gawked at on

                  This is the work of Satan. Gawked at on

Når legepladser

But it wasn't all mannequins. We saw some creepy playgrounds and children's toys as well. Did someone really think that the lady below would be a welcome and whimsical addition to the local playground? Well, they were wrong. She's the main image in a thousand future nightmares.

Inexplicably terrifying figure on a Russian playground.
Gawked at on

Only playground in the world in which children beg to be taken home so they can do their homework. Gawked at on
And after the playground the kids can watch a Twilight
Zone marathon and sleep in a haunted cemetery. Nothing against Russians
parks and rec departments, but...HUH?
Gawked at on
Og den forfærdelige legetøj...

What can we say that you aren't already thinking?

Kicked out of Toyland and currently unemployed
Gawked at on
Learning can be fun....and sickening. Gawked at on
Note to manufactor: cuddly doesn't mean saggy nipples on a reclining
dog-like creature that looks dead. Just saying.

Thus ends this week's creepotorium post. (Yes, we coined that word, and, yes, we know it is spelled awkwardly.) And now, to offset all of the creepiness, we offer you this. Isn't it cute? The jacket, that is. And the fellow wearing it isn't particularly horrendous, either. Unless...we don't think he's actually a mannequin, do you?

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