Tag Archive: Emilie Autumn


Kothermucking!

LOOK LOOK LOOK WHAT IS ON MY BOOBS

Ahem.

So there’s this Almost Alice tie-in album for Burton’s AiW and most of it is meh to average. Special mention goes to the atrocity that is Kerli’s song, Tea Party, which tries to make sexually-loaded lyrics clever and cute and still acceptable in what is essentially a teen CD. The video is packed full of aristos laden with lace and feathers and looking very Emilie Autumn, which is never, ever a bad thing, but when this Gaga lookalike starts inviting you to “pour me out,” it gets a bit shit. Kids over fourteen will be all, “HA this is fucking hilarious”; kids under fourteen will have their ears muffled by their parents.

Shinedown’s Her Name Is Alice is a bit of all right: it takes me back to my early teen affairs with Nickelback and the rest of the soundalike gravelly-voiced rawk bands. The song is pretty awesome, though.

BUT. Oh yes, “BUT,” ladies and loons, there is one hidden gem.

May I present to you Robert fucking Smith, covering Disney’s Very Good Advice, in the weirdest,  most scrumptiously whimsical fashion you could possibly imagine:

Happy place has been reached for this evening, a-thank you.

First off – THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who made the painful transition from 19 to 20 awesome; I had cake, chocolate, cake, gin, jelly, cards, hugs, cake, cake, cake. I basically lived on cake yesterday, it’s the kind of life I believe I’d like to lead forever. So… thank you thank you thank you.

EMILIE AUTUMN. WAS FUCKING BRILLIANT.

I got brandy (masquerading as tea) spat on me, cake thrown at me, Veronica being a tart in my general direction, Emilie getting all cutely embarassed because I said we loved her… it was delicious. I hope she tours again sharpish, because her performances are second to none.

My chest is covered with red glitter because I have spent the day courting my skirt and fixing up the panels that happen to be covered with… well, red glitter. So my breasts are superstars and my room is dusted with sparkles.

I have also been making rat ears.

Well, all right, I made one rat ear and got bored.

I have one rat ear, behold its corpulent velvet loveliness. It’s huge because I’m a theatrical attention seeker

Why am I making rat ears, then?

WELL, on Friday I’m going to see EMILIE FREAKING AUTUMN which is, you know, cool.

She is one of the only musicians I actually obsess over, as opposed to being mildly inclined towards. You will have guessed this from the number of times I’ve stuck her songs on here. The above song is fucking hilarious. (The other  artists are the Dresden Dolls, Fiona Apple and Alice Cooper, just so’s you know.) And a little bit of Google-fu will tell you that she’s obsessed with rats and plague and whatever so a bit of costume is needed. I ordered a corset with red and white ribbons on (swoon) and I will spangle and ratify and be a dirty fangirl.

SPEAKING OF DIRTY FANGIRLS, I now have a bag with the Mad Hatter on. To join, you know, the bag with Jack Sparrow on, and the hoodie with Edward Scissorhands on. Mwahaha.

I have no fucking idea why I’m so hyper; I’ve only had Diet Cherry Coke, which contains no real sugar. And no calories, so I can overdose and be pleased. On the other hand, I’ve managed to eat eight hot cross buns in two days.

Clockwise from left: Count Festoon, Professor T. Pimlico, Sir Scrofula and Caractacus Jones.

Last night I watched Kubrick’s Lolita… I have nothing to say other than when I get my own house, it will look like Clare Quilty’s.

Screwed Up

So this conversation I was having with my mother last night went:

“And she was raped, apparently, when she was younger, which could be why she’s so screwed up.”
“Yeah… what screwed you up, then?”

The only mother who could *possibly* beat mine to the “Mum of the Year” award is Sirius Black’s. 8D

To counter all this talk of Curtain Boy, I bring you:

You don’t mention Sirius to Snape, or he pulls his Face of Repulsion and hurts you.
Heeeee… Snape. :3

Body.

Emilie Autumn, covering Alice Cooper? Heaven.

Based on my birth length and heights of my parents, it was predicted that I would be 5′ 9″ at full adult height.
As it is, I’m exactly the correct height to be a jockey.

I used to despise my height; now I adore it.

The length of my hair has become somewhat of an obsession: I intend to grow it as long as possible. It gets madder and more ringlety with every inch.

I used to hate my hair too; now I love it.

I, for whatever reason, looked up scarification photos; I wonder if I could get a Scar scar? In all seriousness? Along with a Dark Mark, Jack Sparrow’s sparrow, Bellatrix’s prisoner number on my neck and musical notation (as tattoos, not scars, owwy) everywhere. If only I was rich and didn’t need to get a job eventually.

I’m so short and stocky: I’m very Mediterranean.

I’ve stayed at the same weight for weeks. I NEED TO LOSE MORE.
On the plus side I’m under 11 stone. I haven’t been this weight since I was at school.

I see people the size of small planets and want to be sick, then I remember I look exactly like them and it’s almost, but not quite, enough to make me anorexic.

I have scar tissue on both of my heels, so thick it doesn’t feel like skin any more. They are my “badges of honour,” and they were crafted lovingly by one Doctor Marten.

x

Literature.

To be played as you read, if you wish:

“I had dinner before everyone else and afterwards I came and sat at the table, until eight o’ clock when it was understood that I had to go upstairs; the precious and fragile kiss that Mama usually entrusted to me in my bed at the moment I was going to sleep I would have to convey from the dining-room to my bedroom and protect during the whole time I undressed, so that its sweetness would not shatter, so that its volatile essence would not spread and evaporate and, on precisely those evenings when I needed to receive it with more care, I had to take it, I had to snatch it brusquely, publicly…”The Way By Swann’s, Marcel Proust.

Do people write like that any more?

(It’s so hard to read: the entire thing is long, winding sentences with occasional punctuation and very vivid imagery.)

Will I ever have the ability to read it in the original French?

(Erm…)

I wish school-standard French taught you how to speak it fluently instead of useless little phrases and all that grammar. I’ll be pedantic about a sentence only after I can speak a whole one without hesitating, thank you very much.

On the day of my last journal entry I had a sudden, very strong craving for tea. This is remarkable because I tried tea at the age of eight and detested it. For the next eleven years I was to detest even the smell of the stuff, until I was struck by a need for tea. Weirdly enough, I’m now drinking silly amounts of the stuff. And I really like it.

I was told today, very sweetly, that I have a nice singing voice. It made me pleased 🙂

So I settled on my Hallowe’en costume after much agonising because that’s what I do when I want to dress up. I agonise. For a long time.

And so I will enter the revelry dressed as a Filthy Victorian. For those of you unfamilliar with the term as a name of sorts, it sounds like what you think it might be: a Victorian who is filthy. Except not in an urchin-type manner, oh no – think filthy nobility. Marquis de Sade on something stronger. Anachronism alert. I think too much about costumes. I’m madly tired and awake at the same time.

And, for those of you unfamiliar with the term as a name of sorts, it comes from the lovely Emilie Autumn, a singer to whom a close friend introduced me a couple of years back. I’ve posted some of her work up here before. A family friend commented that she sounds like what Kate Bush might have been today. She plays harpsichord, electric violin, plenty of other delightful-sounding instruments, sings alternately like an angel and a banshee, and describes her brand of songitude as Victoriandustrial. Amused, I have always been. She’s totally nuts as well, which is always a perk.

Here is the song that will be stuck in my head for the rest of the day thanks to my dedication to make you listen to what I listen to:

I think the inspiration came partly from watching Corpse Bride too; I love that film entirely too much.

So I bought a long black skirt and four metres of emerald and black organza and will attempt to make a Victorian-bustle-thing-of-sorts this week. And lace gloves. I won’t make these, I have already bought them. And a fascinator. When I become rich I will buy ridiculous things like this all the time and spend my days rolling in velvet wearing Elizabethan ruffs and monocles. I may invite you to join me for sweet tea.

I saw Up yesterday with two of my delightful friends and though I am not about to review the whole thing I need to say that a) dogs that sound like Foamy the Squirrel make me cry with laughter and b) finding out that animated characters are infertile is intensely heartbreaking. When I first saw the trailer I wasn’t particularly thrilled, mainly because I’m neutral towards Pixar in general, but if you’re having doubts like I had doubts, forget them and go to the cinema. Go and see Up, obviously, not just any random film.

My Southampton accent has gone away! This is because I have spent lots of time in the company of people who speak rather beautifully. The life of the wife is ended by the knife!


Beautiful.

The websites I really really like today are…

Music Map – find out similar-sounding artists to the ones you like, a lifesaver if you like relatively obscure stuff and trawling through garbage on YouTube isn’t something you want to spend your spare time on. Like Last.fm’s facility but far simpler visually.

Jelly Towers – so my brother introduced me to the parent website and now I’m hooked. Jelly Towers involves feeding jelly cubes to “Jydras” (basically sugar-junkie hydras) using simple balancing methods. It’s meant for younger children than I. But can I do it? Can I fuck. It’s one of THE most frustrating games I have ever stumbled across. Those fucking jelly cubes only have to take a slight knocking to make them fly everywhere. Irritation in game form can now be yours.

How to make ruffles is a skill everybody should learn. Ruffles are sexy.

You didn’t fully believe me when I said Emilie Autumn is totally nuts, did you?
NOW YOU WILL.