Archive for computers

A Sacred Steampunk Computer for A Lipstick Shamaness

Posted in Art & Culture, Goof & Glamour, I Heart Steampunk, Lipstick Shamaness, Mythos, punk rock, Sexy Bitch Steampunk yum, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 10, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Cream Scene Carnival would be nowhere without the magical mindful influences of The Lipstick Shamaness. How else to explain the little bits of spirit that end up in posts about celebrity haircuts, rowdy rock music, politics as usual, Ouija boards or butt plugs??  

So pass the peace pipe, peeps, as we honor the Lipstick Shamaness with our day-of-birth offerings.  

  

Surely she’d love to experiment with the pigment-dense shades of lipstick from Poppy King’s latest line Lipstick Queen.  King divides her hues into a Saint & Sinner story line which is right up LS’s alley. But saint or sinner? What the hell, why not put two tubes on my Im-Ex card (Imaginary Express — you gotta love pretend funds!)        

  

While we’re spending pastel dollars that we swiped from the Monopoly box, then we must spring for the most magical computer ever imagined by man. That man is Jake Von Slatt, a merciless tease with far too much talent. Von Slatt is a god among steampunks! One look at this cross between computer and church should explain his standing in the steampunk community.  

Von Slatt’s  machines poke at something mythic that still crouches inside technology, like the reptilian brain within the big brain.    

  

“Look out honey, ’cause I’m using technology! Don’t give a fuck about a fuckin’ apology!” (Sing it, Iggy!)  

This poet-prophette steampunk computer is a prime example of Von Slatt’s encompassing vision. Have you ever seen anything so amazing in your life? Surely the Lipstick Shamaness has never seen a machine so sacred in all 109 of her lives! Can you imagine the holy rants she might write on such a talismanic keyboard? What potent spells could come of this?            

    

If you are the tech-savvy DIY type, you may be able to have such a magical contraption for yourself. Jake Von Slatt describes this project in detail over on Datamancer, the personal art site of Richard “Doc” Nagy, Mad Scientist of steampunkery and self-described “Jackass of All Trades.”( datamancer.net)   

The Lipstick Shamaness is not exactly tech-saavy so she won’t be returning computers to their typewriterly roots any time soon. She has, however, been known to fashion some seriously witchy head-dresses. Can a woman ever have too many headdresses? Well, that depends… your average woman with a job at the bank and a boyfriend in real-estate? Yes. A kicky kook with a taste for fox fur & dream states? No, never.  

After all, a modern age shamaness must use her clothing to communicate her “otherness” in this world of McDonalds drive-thrus and reality TV. What is a modern-age shamaness? So so so so NOT a new age anything! She’s not about healing crystals, Native American dream catchers or goddess cultures. She doesn’t dwell in the dogma of the past but propels us forward into a new kind tune-in turn-on. Ontological anarchy! Punk rock spiritualism!           

  

The “Starla” headdress by magentafabulous is just the thing for a Shamaness with sparkly glossy lips.  

These converse tennies, inspired by Blondie’s punk debutante Deborah Harry, will come in handy for feverish trance-dance or for running from the cops after erecting a magpie altar on the steps of a of deep-south anti-gay church. I’m a street walking cheetah with a heart full of napalm, I’m a runaway son of the nuclear A-bomb!  

         

Sometimes you just gotta break out in song! And these tennies make me wanna sing some Stooges. I’m a street walking cheetah with a heart full of napalm! Now let’s rock some more as Iggy Pop takes us to our final gift idea.   

I’m a street walking cheetah
with a heart full of napalm
I’m a runaway son of the nuclear A-bomb
I am a world’s forgotten boy
The one who searches and destroys
Look out honey, ’cause I’m using technology!
Ain’t got time to make no apology.
Soul radiation in the dead of night
Love in the middle of a fire fight
Honey gotta strike me blind
Somebody gotta save my soul
Baby penetrates my mind
                  

The Oracle

  

Wasn’t that the perfect segue into this penetrating piece by J.L. Schnable?    

Schnable aka “babyfangs” says she paints “ladies of magic & doom.” Those ladies have fox faces, pointy crowns and shipwrecks in their hair.  I’ve got my third-eye on this babyfangs cause she’s speaking my language. Know a lady like Cream Scene’s Lipstick Shamaness? Got  someone ESP-ecially lovely in your life? Treat them to a print of “The Oracle.” (available on etsy, along with six other gorgeous prints.)   

And now, for your patience, I have a little reward: back-in-the-day Iggy Pop singing Search & Destroy live at the Phoenix fest in ’94. The footage is intercut with scenes from a surrounding carnival which makes it extra ESPecial perfect for us here at Cream-Scene. Peaches covered Search & Destroy sometime back so if you like this, then check out her version.            

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Lusty Luddite Looking to Seduce Lonely Steam Punk

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Art & Culture, Goof & Glamour, I Heart Steampunk, Intuition & Gut Intelligence, Mythos, Sexy Bitch Steampunk yum, SPOOKY KABUKI with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 25, 2008 by alphabetfiend

I had a dream, years ago, that I’ve never been able to shake. It was one of those dreams where you wake up to profound disappointment because you don’t actually have the thing you had in your dream — the perfect pair of elf-cobbled gypsy-toe boots or dead Dad not dead. It was one of those mornings and I hung my head. I’d gotten lost in a department store of fairy tale oddities and was winding through a maze of small majicks, when the “electronics” section beckoned. (An only in dreams rarity. I’m a low-tech Luddite. I still haven’t succumbed to a cell phone.) The mythic machine that called my name was something awesome strange. A “computer” with claw-feet and typewriter keys, a disc of abalone shell in lieu of a mouse pad. I traced my finger over the smooth oceany spot and felt the pulse of the machine. It wanted me as much as I wanted it. It craved stories and hungered for books. I was just the girl it was looking for.

I’d only heard the term steampunk used when referring to a certain segment of the sci-fi genre so I had no idea that such a thing existed outside of my own brain.

So imagine my shock when I opened a magazine sometime later to see my DREAM MACHINE was actually a real world possibility. Not only do other freaks fancy the same idea, but they are actually building it… coaxing a modern entity into the musty pulp novel past.

The literary fantasist in me wants to sit down everyday to an antique Corona & a pack of cigarettes. But the real-life writer must save, copy, cut & breathe. I have a half-dozen vintage typewriters. When I need to think slowly and poetically, I’ll sit down to play. But I rely on my apple for all serious writing in a world of standard-format submissions, deadlines, internet access, and 16 hour work sessions. What the computer provides in practicality overshadows the clickety-clack wordsmith fantasy.

Now, thanks to an underground steampunk movement, I may actually get to have the best of both worlds. Someday.

First I must get rich. Either that or somehow get a steampunk geek to fall in love with me. How hard can that be? Where do steam punks hang out? I’ll show up there in my floor-length gown (pin-tucked puff shoulders, high-neck, long-sleeved) in luxe velvet the shade of sunny tobacco. 1930’s peep-toe pumps with brass buckles and t-straps. I’ll tug my treasured leather aviator cap & vintage goggles snug over my ringlets. Dab some MAC “Film Noir” lipstick that goes on like a black & white movie. Right? What steam punk could resist? Maybe he’d see the stories beneath my ribs and shudder to think what I could do with such a keyboard.

I so so need that clever keyboard. But alas. I can’t even afford a voyage to the big city to attend “The Grand Chrono’nauts Tea” in my beloved NY. Too bad. What better place to meet a lonely punk looking to get steamy with a longful Luddite?

What about you? Can you make it? If so, go! Fondle the clangy keys for me. Don’t be shy. Take liberties. 

Until that day when I can have a steampunk laptop and a steampunk motorcycle, I’m gonna tide myself over with this limited edition steampunk fez from fez-o-rama. I’ll put on my thinking cap while conjuring the crafty plot whereby I seduce my very own mad scientist geek boy. Except I already have a RobotBoy. Damn. This steampunk dilemma is a sticky wicket. It’s no wonder I need a thinking cap!

I hope you have enjoyed this act of SPOOKY KABUKI — stay tuned for more odd twists of reality.

AUTHORS NOTE: If you are interested in steampunk be sure to hit that tag b/c I’m always finding new and amazing bits of steampunkery whether motorcycles, clothes/jewelry, dreamy aesthetics or more computers — namely one that is part computer part church. Crazy beauty!

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