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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Sunday, November 18, 2012



There are simply no two ways about it. We are hot for Lincoln. Yes, we know he's been dead for over a century and a half, and that even when he was alive, he was hardly the Brad Pitt of mid-19th century American society. On the other hand, there's a reason the 16th president of the United States continues to inspire so much passion and interest all these many years after his tragic demise at the hands of angry Confederate sympathizer John Wilkes Booth. That reason is a combination of many things, of course. Lincoln was, without question, one of the most intelligent and complex men to ever hold the office of U.S. president. The mythology that surrounds his upbringing (humble origins, honesty at all costs, humanitarianism up the ying yang, etc) has become an axiomatic part of this nation's history. And, of course, the fact that his presidency was so intrinsicably intertwwined with the events of the Civil War lends a poignancy to his legacy which still resonates today. But, for our money (not that we have much of it), there is yet another component to the reason behind the contining and unabated interest in Abraham Lincoln as we wend our way slowly and surely through the second decade of the 21st century. In a word...Abraham Lincoln was freaking hot.


From the moment this past summer when we first heard that Steven Spielberg's "Lincoln" would be arriving in theaters on Nov. 8, we have been absolutely salivating to see what, according to most critics, is not only a riviting, impeccably crafted homage to the man behind the legend, but probably one of Daniel Day-Lewis' most compelling performances ever. Unlike most films about Lincoln, this latterday epic from the man who gave us "Saving Private Ryan" and "Schindler's List" purposely bypasses the fury and gore of battlefield scenes to focus on the final four months of Abraham Lincoln's life, which he spent simultaneously trying to pass the Emancipation Proclamation to abolish slavery and bring the war between the states to an end. Although we haven't had a chance to see it yet, if the reviews are on target, we have complete faith that, once we do, we will leave the theater with a refurbished passion for Abe.


But back to our long simmering love for the lanky 16th president of the United States. Despite the endless jibes our interest has garnered from friends and associates ("Lincoln? Really? Why?"), we maintain that the sexiest thing about a man...any that ephemeral quality of uniqueness that he either has or he doesn't. Abraham Lincoln was, without question, unique. Brilliant, but folksy, he was not only a man of the people, he was a true humanitarian who seems to have been blessed...or cursed...with a sense of compassion that made it almost impossible for him to join the ranks of the career politicians who, in his day as well as ours, make a business out of politics. He was an admirer of women as well. His biographers have made it clear that Lincoln's "homely looks" didn't stop him from playing the field...or at least making a good attempt. His marriage to Mary Todd, who was, herself, not quite what one would call, a "beauty", endured mainly because the man knew how to accomodate a woman who was known forn her neediness and frequent temper tantrums, not to mention an out of control spending habit that her handlers had to work hard to keep under wraps from the American public. Yet, by all accounts, Lincoln went to great lengths to accomodate his wife's mood swings and crankiness, despite the fact that she once confided to a friend that had she not believed that her husband would become president one day, she would have never considered marrying him. Not that she was his first choice, either. Lincoln's first love, Ann Rutledge, died before he could marry her, and there is some evidence that he married Mary only after she became pregnant, having already broken their engagement once. Even after their marriage, Lincoln was a favorite among the ladies who came to the White House. No doubt that had a lot to do with his wit and gift for conversation, but the deep sadness that seemed to hang over him like an invisible shroud was surely a draw as well. There's just something about a smart, sweet, sad man that's simply irresistable to some women. Abraham Lincoln was the prototype.


Clearly, we could go on and on about Lincoln, but we'll leave it to the historians. Suffice it to say that we are hot for the man...and couldn't be happier that his legacy not only lives on, but is at present enjoying something of a restart. And as much as we love him, we don't even mind sharing him one bit. To paraphrase the man himself, you can fool some of the people all of the time, and you can fool all of the people some of the time, but you can't fool yourself into thinking you're the only one hot for Lincoln.

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