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, May 8, 2012


August 18, 1920 was just another work day for Harry T. Burn, who was serving his first term as a member of the General Assembly for McMinn County, Tennessee. At 22, he was the youngest member to ever have been elected to that office. And on that hot August afternoon in 1920, on which the Tennessee state legislature had called a special session, Burn was preparing to cast his vote against the ratification of the Nineteenth Amendment, which would finally, after years of suffrage, give American women the right to vote. Thirty-two of America's forty-eight states had already ratified the amendment, but in order for it to become law, a minimum of three more states had to follow suit. But it was already clear that the majority of Tennessee's General Assembly planned to vote against ratification. As a newcomer to the political game, Burn wasn't looking to make enemies, hence his stated decision to vote against the amendment. But there was a caveat.

The day before the special session, Burn had received a letter from his mother, Mrs. J.L. Burn, of Niota, in which she wrote, "Dear Son: Hurrah and vote for suffrage! Don't keep them in doubt! I notice some of the speeches against. They were bitter. I have been watching to see how you stood, but have not noticed anything yet. Don't forget to be a good boy and help Mrs. Catt put the "rat" in ratification. Your mother." As the afternoon wore on, filled with heated debates and speeches, for and against ratification of the amendment, Burn sat with his mother's letter clenched in his hand. Finally, it was time to vote. The result was a 48-48 deadlock. It had come down to Burn's vote. Still holding his mother's letter, he favor of the Nineteenth Amendment. His fellow assembly members went wild. Angry invectives were hurled in his direction. By all accounts, Burn barely made it out of the building alive. In fact, members of the anti-suffragist faction were so enraged by Burn's "turncoat" vote that he was forced to hide for a short time, afraid that he would come to bodily harm.

The next day, Burn returned to the Legislature and asked to speak to members of the House. Standing before the assembled politicians, some of them still seething with anger, he explained that he had changed his vote because his mother had asked him to do so. "My mother taught me that a good boy always does what his mother asks him to do," he said.

Burn went on to enjoy a long career in the Tennessee state legislature, holding positions not only in the State House of Representatives, from 1918 to 1922, but in the State Senate from 1948 to 1952; the state planning commission from 1952 to 1958; and as a delegate for Roane County to the Constitutional Conventions of 1953, 1959, 1965. He died in Niota on Feb. 19, 1977, his greatest political achievement still that of being the man whose vote helped to usher in a new age of rights for women.

Thank you, Harry and Mrs. Burn...and Happy Mother's Day.

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