Future.

I'm having my honeymoon in the Library Hotel, New York.

www.libraryhotel.com


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A Vaudevillian Revival.

I've grown to find the past two years of my life has been devoured by an utter devotion in my soul to the generation of a Vaudevillian Revival of the 21st Century.

Burlesque dancers dazzling audiences, eyes trying to get to grips with some of the glorious garters sported by beautiful women. Big Bands playing a variety gypsy folk, soaked in gin, blood and all the lust you can fit into one dance floor. An odd obsession with death. A band, in my eyes, isn't complete without a rich double bass, and some well laid accordian. And loads, of unnecessary screaming and drunkeness.

The men are much more attractive, when they holler, and beat their chains with hammers, and sport suspenders with collared shirts, and blow your eardrums with rich baritones.

It's the only place where a woman can steal your soul, and sell it to a black market for a very good price. It's a place for converts; evangelised agnostics with gold teeth and well-oiled pick up lines.

It'll eat your heart out and replace it with coal.
And you won't mind one little bit.






-The Hoodoo Emporium.
Burlesque, Mojo, and the gigs of the Jitterbug Club.

http://www.hoodooemporium.com/index.html


-Juke Baritone and the Swamp Dogs.
A freak cabaret. The best way to have your ears assaulted.
At your nearest Speigeltent.

http://www.myspace.com/jukebaritone


-Graveyard Train.
'Like a steel-capped boot to the face'.
Blues

http://www.graveyardtrain.com.au/


-Frankie Valentine.
Burlesque.
Your very own femme fetale.

http://www.myspace.com/frankie.valentine







Pull out your tarot cards and predict a false future.
Every single soul in the worlds got a tale. Even if it aint the truth at all that they are tellin'..

A tribute to Fred Garber;

I never would think that I could be as good of a writer as him, but I'll give it a shot. It's funny how you can stumble on something, across the street, a sign as you travel the bus home, an incorrect link on a friends web page.. and you can find the most amazing things. This is the case with my Factory Town. It's where Tom and I live, and sleep, and eat sometimes (although the food is not so good).
And initially, even though we didn't know it, it'd been imagined, created, and developed by a Mr. Fred Garber of Iowa State, America.

It's been 11 months since his last post. I'll admit to following him religiously, even though it may shock him to hear it. My favourite posts are "When I was in Cincinnati" and "One Hundred Common Questions". Especially the latter.

So put on your dancing shoes, and have a look at his stuff:

factorytown.blogspot.com


----

There was a man
Who I could hear talking to me
Although he lived a long long way away.

He would tell me stories of his town,
Of beds, and ships that docked into corridors of hotels
and into the kitchens of restaurants
and into the hallways of five kings that no one has ever met.

And for all your lies you tell me
From very far away
You're still very loveable.
Forever.
Even if your heart is dust.
And your tongue is made of daggers.
My heart quakes,
and I'm cold as I check again.

For your return.

Oh, and has anyone noticed?

I'm often the discarded one. Love me or leave me. I entreat you. Stay. Please.

I beg of you.

Ad Hominem.

When translated from Latin to English, this term means "against the man".

In reality, unlike it's misuses on the internet as a replacement for sarcasm and such, Ad Hominem is 'the logical fallacy of attempting to undermine a speaker's arguement by attacking the speaker instead of adressing the arguement'.
And put into a societal context, wander in to parliament sometime? You may find that Julia Gillard is too often performing to cameras the 'Hokey Pokey Carbon Tax' song, when she should be getting her environmental on. Liberal members are alikening her to Gadhafi. Kristina is being her irritating self. Maggie T is having a movie made about her (with Meryl Streep), and trust me here, on that note... I AM NOT COMPLAINING. LONG LIVE THE IRON LADY'S LEGACY.

But honestly, as my great great grandfather said in his time, and as I believe it still truely stands.. 'Government as it is at present is simply a comedy which is not even well played'. I admire his radical socialism. He seems, from Bob Jame's essay 'W.R. Winspear - Anarchist or Socialist', an intelligent man.



Maybe it's all time we migrated to China.

A Room of Requirement.

My room.
Purple walled,
full of world maps, paper cranes and musicians posters.

I believe now, instead of being a bedroom, it has become a room of requirement. It's now a room of constant residance, obligation and numerous tasks, rather than the initial designated use of 'sleeping'. If I had a real room of requirement, like the one in the fictional story of Harry Potter, I would have a room full of pillows and beds and green tea and soup.

But all I have in here is an untuned guitar, and a pile of work.

Dear John.

~ there is nothing better than being as derro as we are in this photo, and not caring at all :)

I know, when a girl is growing up, she looks at all the romance and rom com films, and thinks.. why can't my romance be like it is in the movies. Some may say that I am fortunate enough to be one of the few to have one of those special romances.

I totally pulled out 'Dear John'. Where some girl (who I think is a little pretentious in the movie, I did not like her acting style at all) meets a handsome man, and they find out they have something just before he goes back to the army. Which, you know, is probably about right for me. Gospel truth, apart from the father and child with aspergers, and a man dying of cancer. Anyway, I'm not going to put this whole blog into my stylistic story format, or cover it with false pretenses. John needs a bit of a slap to the face to realise things.

Dear John (terrible movie)

Thankyou for being here. Thankyou for not having left yet.

Thankyou for letting me be just the way I am, and loving me for it.

I know I can be a bit rough around the edges, or a bit manly, or bitchy, and sometimes just plain yuck. But if you're willing to stick around, then that's the best thing that could be happening for me right now. I love you. Enough for you to get rediculous haircuts and not care. You're sweet and understanding and just down right amazing. Thankyou Thankyou ThankYOU!

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