Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

I've had a request for pictures of the new Devil Girl House. ( They're under this cut tag to save you some scrolling. )

Since tomorrow is my last full day here, I'm pretty sure this is going to be my last upload of pics. In chronological order:


Blackfriars national rail station. Blackfriars tube is at the north end of Blackfriars bridge. But to save space, I guess, they put the national rail station on the Blackfriars rail bridge. Naturally, the view downriver as seen here is boffo: there are the Millenium Bridge, London Bridge, and Tower Bridge from nearest to farthest, with the Shard on the right.


My first view of the English Channel, peeking out from between Brighton's many fine examples of architecture.


Brighton beach. Off to the left is the pier. Off to the right are the remains of another pier that burned in 2003. Straight ahead on the horizon, if you embiggen, you can see the offshore windmill farm.


The Royal Pavilion. I was just walking around, thinking of heading for the train home, when I walked past this. I had no idea it was there. (I'd seen its silhouette on a sticker, but I didn't realize what it was.) It was a royal residence in the early 19th century, but now it's a museum.


The countryside on the way back to London. My apologies for all the reflections in the window, but it really was beautiful. There are enough trees and urbanization on this route that you don't get many chances for this kind of shot.


Electrowerkz and its co-founder Mak. Electrowerkz is the venue where I spent Saturday night, beloved of Goths and kinksters. Mayuan Mak, co-founder and owner, died the day I left.


Bananas & palms in Notting Hill. Notting Hill is full of these little green spaces, and this one demanded to be photographed, even in the rain.


A fire station on Notting Hill. Note the gnarly anti-climbing devices on top of the wall. This isn't the only place I saw these. London may be mellow about a lot of things, but security of property is not one of them.

Readers, I owe you an apology: I ran out of my temporary bachelorette pad yesterday heading for the Tate Modern but without my phone. I don't have any photos of the art, but to tell you the truth I'm not sure that's copacetic anyway. I did, however, return shortly after my visit to take photos of the stunning views from the Millennium Bridge that I walked on to get to the museum.

Punchline: I need not have worried about showing up at the time on my museum ticket. The staff checked that I had one, but they didn't check the time.

Without further ado, and in chronological order:


Carnaby Street. Feel the twee.


Irregular Choice. Yeah, they're even twee-er than the rest of the street, but at least they come by it honestly, if you know what I mean.


A promenently lit crosswalk. These things are everywhere, and they've probably saved my life several times over by now. London drivers actually stop for them! Since the lights were blinking out of sync it took me several attempts to get a shot where these were all lit.


The Egyptian avenue at Highgate Cemetery. This is some mighty sharp mid-19th century marketing. I didn't want to back up or take a panorama because I was with a group, and there were of course graves everywhere. But you can get a sense of how overgrown Highgate is.


Douglas Adams. One of the pens in that flower pot is the one I left. Requiescas in pace, hoopy frood.


From the Millennium Bridge looking south. This was the view that greeted me on my way to the Tate Modern. So you can understand why I took the extra tube trip afterward.


From the Millennium Bridge looking north is at least as good because oh em gee St. Paul's! And I can't help wondering about the residential property right on the Thames. Seven figures in pounds or eight?


Boot's carries vibrators. I can't vouch for their quality, but it says something good about London and maybe the UK in general that people don't get their "knickers in a twist" about this kind of thing.

Because I have no further plans today until late this evening (ahem), here's the first installment of the many pictures that I promised cupcake_goth that I'd take. I'm putting them here in roughly chronological order.


The view from where I'm staying in Islington. Note the dome of St. Paul's on the far right.


Angel station. Tube sweet tube.


St. Mary's Church garden, Islington. A secluded island of zen.

( ARACHNOPHOBES: DO NOT CLICK THIS. )


King's Cross St. Pancras, where a gazillion train lines meet. It's a mediocre photo of a truly impressive piece of infrastructure from the 19th century. A veritable temple of transpo.


Nun and, oh by the way, Tower Bridge. The wisenheimer shot.


A panorama from Tower Bridge. The Tower itself is peeking out from behind trees on the far right. This view is looking up the Thames.


Tower Bridge, the money shot. As someone who's spent plenty of time stuck behind drawbridges in Seattle, I'm a little sorry for the drivers in this photo. It is, nevertheless, the pic you always see of this most recognizable of bridges. This time the Tower is not quite visible on the left.


Tower Bridge from London Bridge. Or rather, from steps leading down from the north end of London Bridge. People were trying to walk on the bridge, you know?


London has cool bollards. Back in the aughts there was a blog called "Bollards Of London" written by a London cabbie. That blog is long gone, but plenty of awesome 19th-century bollards remain. This one is in the City. I salute both the bollards and the blogger's passion.


Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain at Piccadilly Circus. I hope this photo captures some of both the grandiose beauty and the commercialized yikes of this part of the city.


The Second Shelf Books. My heroines.


My impromptu picnic spot in St. James's Park. It isn't that big, but St. James's Park really kicks butt. If this is their standard, I'm impressed.


Tree ferns? In London? You know it. This is a closeup of what you can see in my picnic spot pic above.


The lake in St. James's Park. I didn't shoot any waterfowl, dang it. There were many, of at least five different species.

I got on the train to the CBD (*snerk*) around 1530. One stop up from mine dozens of younger people in matching butterfly costumes got on the train. They were adorable. I didn't shoot them on the train, but I did get them in the parade.

I walked down the parade route: Oxford St. and then Flinders. Some lucky people on Flinders watched from their wrought-iron balconies:



Near the end of the route, I found a bar with more street art with an environmentalist theme...



...but more importantly, I found beer and a bathroom.

Located grandstands, to which V had earlier urged me to buy a ticket. She didn't steer me wrong: the parade lasts four hours.

Found a crowded bar with decent food. Scarfed fish tacos - gotta love that symbolism - while chatting with two younger ladies from Ireland who'd moved to Australia. Lovely girls, and drunker than I was.

The parade starts at 1900 - with Dykes on Bikes, of course. I'm not sure I'm ready to move my local Pride parade into the night: daytime is more family-friendly, and getting around is easier. However, I have to give the Aussies points for style and fabulosity.

Here's the thing about this parade as opposed to other Pride parades: it's a goddamn production, with some serious floats, costumes, and choreography. Mind you, not all contingents are that hardcore, but many are. American parades are much... homier affairs.

Yes, corporate sponsorship was visible, but it wasn't as pervasively icky as what you see in Seattle. On the other hand, I didn't see any protesters who weren't actually in the parade; that's pretty normal in Seattle.

The first contingents were Aboriginal, and the "78ers", folks from the first Mardi Gras parade 40 years ago, many of whom got arrested. I was a little verklempt at the latter: many of them lost their livelihoods and even their lives to make today possible for queers.

On to the pics! Most of the ones I took really stank because a) I was sitting in the middle of grandstands, and b) there was a giant monitor across the street. Here, however, are the best:



Queers? Have a substance consumption problem? Never! "Happy Mardi Gras" is the local equivalent of "Happy Pride"; you hear it a lot.



Nice float. And this was a non-profit organization.



Much celebration of the same-sex marriage victory. Duh.



Not spectacular, but I gotta love my trans peeps.



Another quality float.



Leather Pride, baybee.



This was the first year the Sydney Opera House had a contingent. That's darkly hilarious because you know queers are all over that place. In fact, one of the aforementioned Irish women is a lighting designer for them.



The butterflies from the train! They were a student group from one of the local universities, and they were dancing it up in synchronized fashion. I'm not sure you can see it, but they have curly antennae.



"Tradies" - the girl from Canberra next to me in the stands confirms that means construction workers - in their gear. I betcha those fellas get a lot of welcome attention.



The Gay Nomads, as opposed to the Gray Nomads, are an organization of queer campers. It's not a good shot, but try to pick out the silhouettes on the tents and the legs sticking out of them.



I forget who these folks were, but they're lemonheads, so they make the cut.



Somebody spoofed The Handmaid's Tale. That's in such poor taste I had to shoot it.



Day-glo water polo players. Only in Australia.



Maybe not so spectacular except for who they are: doctors and dentists. In harnesses. I gotta love that.



Another hot political issue here is the treatment of refugees. Many are being kept in terrible conditions on the islands of Manus and Nauru.



Mormons. Real or spoof? I don't know, and I don't care.



This is one of two contingents of South Asians. Awesome clothes, worn by queers who have it tough. Asians both South and East are a much more visible presence in Sydney than they are even in west coast American cities.



"Poof Doof". I don't even know.

ETA: I googled it. Poof Doof is a "gay rave" night in Melbourne. I think I might have to check it out.



Furries! OK, that's one nice thing about having the parade at night: it's comfortable for full-body costumes. The dudes with the microphones didn't realize that furries & puppies are distinct groups, which irked me. Speaking of puppies...



Here you go.



Another political float, this time anti-global warming. There's a big new coal mine that's being proposed for a place called Adani. I've seen stickers against it around Newtown.

I skipped the afterparty that I paid for for three reasons: I couldn't get a data connection to map the party; an allergy appeared to be kicking my butt; and speaking of my butt, wearing thongs two days in a row with a newly waxed butt left me irritated. I think I caught the last train to Newtown - they wisely close the nearest station - got some late night felafel in a crowded kebab joint, and crashed.

In summation, Australia is a land of many contrasts. Queer Australia, doubly so.

Today's pics are a relatively few in number because I spent enough time a) sleeping and b) chilling out. On to pics!



I was nomming a mighty fine haloumi salad at Lou Jack's when I spotted this across the street. Sure, you've seen sneakers hanging from wires - that's here too - but have you seen shoes of all types affixed directly to a utility pole? I think not.



Since I didn't make it onto the Harbor* Bridge on Thursday, I felt honor bound to take the train to the north side and walk back. I couldn't seem to make panorama mode work despite several tries, but hey, good shots from there are fish in a barrel.

It's a pretty easy walk across the bridge, so I rewarded myself with a trip to the Opera Bar, where the drinks are "exxy", as V puts it, but decent, and you can sit in the sun right at the water's edge, next door to the opera house, and soak in the view. (No pics because I was luxuriating and I already posted the opera house.)

Note from the train #1: One thing you see a lot of around here are kids in school uniforms, including teenage girls in short, pleated skirts. No, I have not googled "age of consent Australia". Yet.



Note from the train #2: Local government seems pretty enthusiastic about Mardi Gras. (Hundreds of thousands of people partying and spending money? Most cities are OK with that.) These Pride-themed decorations led from the street 50m to the gate of Newtown Station, and continued a bit inside. I can only conclude that they have some kind of official sanction. I didn't see them at other stations.

Slept from 1700 to 1830. Glorious! Which meant I was awake at night, checking out well-dressed young ladies I can be pretty sure are above the age of consent**, and seeing the sights:



Hmm. This shot doesn't really convey the number and density of little restaurants, bars, and shops in this neighborhood. (I had to get that Pride projection, though.) Density means a lot of them are tiny, natch. One of them, Bliss & Chips, serves - you guessed it - vegan "fish" and chips. I had to try that. Soy milkshake? Right flavor, wrong texture. "Fish"? Eerily realistic grainy texture, flavor left me wanting some good old Pacific northwest salmon. Great fries in overabundance. The proprietress tried to sell me on the "prawns" which had been sculpted and colored with considerable effort, but I passed on those.

Oh and it isn't just local government that's making nice with teh qweerz. So is at least one bank:



On the one hand, I stayed awake until midnight, which I'm counting as victory, especially the party madness that will happen tonight. On the other hand, I blistered my heel with Fluevogs, cutting short my walking. And I've been up since before 0500. Goddamn jet lag.



*I refuse to insert a U.
**The legal drinking age here is 18. The only establishment I've seen with prominent signs to that effect is the Opera Bar.

It's 0600 local time. I woke up around 0300. Moral: it's too warm for the duvet, and maybe I need some melatonin. As promised, pics of Sydney from yesterday and the day before, in more or less chronological order.



King Street, Newtown, a couple of blocks from where I'm staying.



The aforementioned bus stop posters, King St. & Enmore Rd. I gotta love how somebody, presumably trans, made neatly printed stickers and got every last one of those posters.

Let's put the street art together:





A little Aboriginal theme going there.



I think this piece is an allegory about gentrification, which judging from the stickers is a concern in the neighborhood. Yeah, I'm a contributor, dammit. Poo.



I may have mentioned that Australia's referendum on same-sex marriage recently passed. There are many, many signs in favor of it all over Newtown. This is probably the largest I've seen.



Gotta love the painted shadow.



Home away from home. I can't get over the wrought iron.



A few doors up the street.



Crazy vegetation, a few doors in the other direction.



This is one of several Aboriginal flags, painted or flying, that I saw. I had to get arty with the palm tree & the steeple. The wall behind it encloses...



...Camperdown Cemetery, because the Goths raised me right. It's a little neglected for extra spookiness. Even the newest graves I saw are from the 1920s. Some headstones had illegible verse, but even better was the info on how people died: a teenage boy drowned in Sydney Harbor, a sailor on a navy ship, etc.



The biggest damn magnolia I've ever laid eyes on, just inside the cemetery entrance.



Eucalyptus where it belongs - in Australia, not California - in the park surrounding the cemetery.



Sydney is so sunny that they have to put shade cloth over kids' play areas in parks. I'd never seen that before.



And finally, yours truly at Bondi Beach! Remember when iMacs came out, and one of their colors was Bondi Blue? The water really is a rare and beautiful electric, slightly greenish blue. I didn't walk on that sand, though, and let me tell you why.

Burner buddy V took several tries to convince me not to go into the water at the beach: the wind had blown in lots of seaweed, which probably also meant lots of men-of-war jelllyfish, or as locals call them, bluebottles. As a Florida girl I knew those are bad news. There were also gulls feeding nearby, which probably meant sharks nearby as well. V is a nurse and told me all about how big the bite mark was that she'd seen from a shark attack the other day. Sharks get within 20m of shore pretty regularly.

So what did we do instead? Sunbathe topless on big, flat rocks at a women-only area - popular with Muslim ladies, despite the boobs - and frolicking in the saltwater pool. Superbly relaxing, especially if you're a nurse who's seen multiple patients die in the last day or so. V had to warn me about the sea urchins that like to hang out at the edges of such pools; the one I was in was basically a natural tide pool with some extra walls added. Oh, and as we left, V made sure to put her sneakers on before she walked on the grass because of some damn plant that'll pierce your foot otherwise. Aussies are used to it and maybe even a touch defensive about it, but this place really is out to get all humans.

Came back to the apartment. Had OK dinner at the sliding-scale vegan place, Lentil As Anything. Walked up & down King St. Tried the vegan gelato that V recommended (Gelato Blue) and was surprised to find that it kicked butt. (The Tickler, who can't do dairy, has been informed.) Managed to stay awake past 2100 hours.

By popular request, i.e. thewronghands, here's your happily escaped pirate captive:

I've got the pics uploaded. To spare you some scrolling, I've created a gallery.

After I post this, there will be a mere dozen items on my post-Burn to-do list, which consists of cleaning things, replacing things, and fetching things.

Photo credit: Colleen Mathis.
Inspiration: Mad Men.
Customer: satisfied. And minus several blemishes, frown lines, crows' feet, and nasolabial folds.

( They might be kind of big. )

I believe I now have a powerful new marketing tool for Project Girlfriend. All shall love me and despair! Or something.