Hotel Kitty

first off, would anyone care to buy me a ticket to Carmen at the Royal Opera House in London for when i am there in december? Only 160 quid.

fuck a duck. i have managed to miss 2 classic operas here, which in London wouldn't be a problem. But here. oh yes, i have to wait approximately another 4 to 5 months for another classic heartwrenching performance. i am extremely disappointed in myself and in you dear reader, for i have ranted about opera quite heavily on here and one of you must have known. a prod was all i needed. *points to the right of the screen*
'mail me'
see?
ho hum. i think i am going to treat myself to a pretend one as no one else will do such.

i shall dress in my posh frock and have roses and candles and a really good red wine and perhaps some strawberries dipped in plain chocolate and enjoy myself thoroughly. i am actually smiling very hard at the prospect of this. i am glad i entertain myself sometimes.


In news vaguely connected to opera, i managed to lose my voice this week, entirely (and my boss and others have been revelling in this). This means i cannot express myself verbally which, as you are all very aware, i like to do somewhat. it has been exceedingly frustrating. Especially when meeting new people. i feel like somewhat of a twat. ho hum. I am probably less of a twat than when my vocal chords allow the flow of verbal diarrhoea.

The next three weeks see yet another mass of visitors on the horizon. first up arriving this weekend is Daddypop. aka Mario Stephan Ludwig (yes really).


i have no idea what we will be doing, but considering the last tea party i held for mumsy and my stepdad Mike ended up with 2 of my girlie friends announcing 67 year old Mike was 'hawt', i am considering locking my father in a cage.

nei, i am sure we will go out and get a bit drunk even though he has refused to wear glimmer (lame) and go hot tubs slash blue lagooning. he is here friday to monday. do come and say hi.

Visiting next, courtesy of Iceland Express, the weekend after is FANNY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! her myspace here You will be able to hear her from the second she lands. truefact. if you see us out. well, you will know us by the trail of dead basically.






then it is a mere couple of days rest until visitors arrive for the sugarcubes/birthday weekend madness....
Davo.... his myspace here
He is an extremely dashing sir who came here with me last year for airwaves so has met a few of you here in Reykjavik.




also coming at the same timeish and staying a tad longer is Chris
his myspace here
He recently made a video for Daniel Águst and will be making one for Kiki-Ow whilst here. oh yes. sexy sex sex with audio porn.



So yes, no rest for the wicked ladies and gents. Which makes me very very wicked indeed. Although to be honest, I haven't had a real chance to be truly wicked. I am hoping opportunity knocks on that one bráðum for i feel terribly impish.

Dancing and Puddlejumping

I spent my lunchtime today walking in the pouring rain (oh how terribly emo of me i know), looking at Esja and its snowy top and the sun shining down on it whilst the rest of the sky was heavy heavy grey. I stood on a rock, as was my want, and opened my anoracked arms to the wonder afore me.

My word, I do love living here for things like this. I smiled under my parker hood as the rain dripped off my nose and felt about 6 years old. So, appropriately, i jumped in some puddles. If you saw what looked like Kenny in blue behaving like a mental in the rain today, that was me.

I came back to the office and was greeted by the most incredible myspace message I have yet to receive. I wonder how long it took him to type with the capalisation....

"HeY waz^up^?? Ur VerY CuTe And SexY!!! Ur HOT!!! )))MuAxX((( I wanted TO Comment On Ur PiCX SO BAD!!! >>lol<< Hit ME Back!!!"


Wait. go back and read it again. appreciate the lyricism and expression. wonderful isn't it?

Things like these really do give me grave concerns about voting rights and procreation.

Moving sdrawkcab to my monday evening, after miss lilja came for a bagel and bitch over dr phil, i tried to decide what to do with my evening. it was too cold to go outside once i had come into the toasty blanket that is my flat.

Revenge at my old batty neighbour upstairs and her tv at volume 11 - i played Ms Callas, Beethoven and Orff at a level i could hear whilst showering, and amused myself by wailing along with it. you couldnt really call it singing, but it was extremely freeing.

this continued after the shower, until i was vest and knickered up, and morphed into me pretending i could remember ballet from my childhood classes. unlikely, and ridiculous, but i was away with myself. steps and leaps and spins and extensions and a feeling as if my chest could burst.

I decided i have to get the dj gigs lined up shortly so that i can pay for classes again. none of the ones i did previously in childhood. i fear there would be something overtly ridiculous about a curvy 28 year old attending beginner/refresher classes of ballet, disco, jazz or modern with a group of lithe adolescents. but my ballroom classes, theres another thing. that really would be princessy.

I would be lying through my teeth if i said that goddamned TV program had nothing to do with it (So you think you can dance) but its also the freedom and joy i feel when doing something even as silly as i was that night.

Two hours I spent. Two. In my polkadot knickers and vest. coffee table moved aside and my toes sliding and tippty tapping, feeling the parquet under them. I felt fucking wonderful. really really wonderful.

Wonderful that is until my (nice and sane other) neighbour came to tell me that even though my lights were dim, anyone walking past was able to see a little more than a sillohette of me in the throws of freedom through my makeshift curtain.

I got into bed then. at about 9.30 and watched CSI instead.but giggled to myself throughout.

When will i grow up i wonder?

Who can tell. But until i grow up i will do silly things like make rave tunes

rrrrrrrrrrave

say it with me, raaaaaaaaaave.

check out the new kiki-ow mix by patrick walker of Avionix Recordings...

http://www.myspace.com/avionixrecordings

click image...




Additionally I have Chris mr director man coming in a few weeks with a view to shooting the Kiki-Ow video at long last, and ooooh i like the sound of it indeed.
Eeep.

Airwaves, the aftermath...

Its Tuesday, its my favourite weather, cold so you feel like your face is being spanked, and bright so that you feel alive alive-o. I am feeling tippety top. This is almost unheard of after the Airwaves festival weekend.

As is my usual, I saw only a few bands, refused to spend my time rushing from venue to venue and kicked back casually enjoying the city in its pumping status and all the extra nibbly bits available.

Mr McBain arrived on wednesday night and Gaui arrived earlier that day. They helped me and each other have an absolute blinder of a weekend. We, along with Sruli and Dan popped to hottubs each day, except for the day of the hangover party at the Blue Lagoon. The weather on Saturday was straight out of summer. It was incrdible. The best I have ever seen when sloshing around in the warm blue water.

The Vice party at Naked Ape was amusing, if not for the fact I haven't seen so many trendy haircuts in one room since a Vice party in London, then for the fact the cocktail bar were pumping the strongest vodka drinks out i have ever tasted. The facial expressions everyone pulled after their initial sip were joyous to behold. I have been told Vice photographed my arse. Whatever floats their boat.

No hangovers. All weekend. Anhebriation was suitable, relaxed and wonderous without feeling battered. Proper food consumed at all times. Fancy dresses every day. Dancing all night. And from my favourite spot in Sirkus, 3 nights in a row. jolly good. not to mention the 'kid-at-fat-camp-gets-to-lick-chocolate' episode.

I cut out a good few bands i genuinely wished i could see in favour of getting my butt inside Sirkus before it became insane and too much of a struggle. It may seem odd that I would forgo bands who are here possibly for the only time in favour of attending a club I visit almost weekly. But I, nor anyone with me, regretted doing so.

It was, by all accounts the most amazing place to be. Saturday night was beyond insanity. Steph (The President) had installed a floor which made the celing 20 something centimetres (i think) closer. This was part of the Sequences art festival. That along with red lighting and his djing kicked the place into a party never seen before. Add to that the fact that 'everyone' was there, made it a night i challenge to be beaten.

Oh, as Gaui says, if only that weekend could be on repeat.....

















See here my favourite thing of the festival, and i really mean that, its not just family loyalty...

IDIR live at GRAND ROKK.

So really, How do you like Iceland?

For those of you who didn't catch my myspace bulletin yesterday, I was approached by Iceland Express following the Send Fanny to Iceland Fund. Their web editor Valgeir tells me he has been spying on this site for some time (goðan dag Valgeir) with a view to asking me to join the editorial team.

The appeal for Fanny gave the perfect opportunity. So Monday we met and I shall now be writing regularly for them, specifically their How do you like Iceland? blog, which aims to be an antidote to the usual come to iceland, see rocks, eat sheep's head bland tourist crap.

This not only means I can now fly Fanny out, (thank you to those who donated, I have to work to pay off the flights albeit cheaper, so your contributions will pay for transfer from airport to town and back) but I now have yet more space on the internode to ramble and rant. MMMwwwaha hahahahaahah ahahahahaaha.

One of the regular pieces is a 'What's on at the weekend' number in which i get to tell, well, as you expect, what's on here at the weekend.

If you have a gig or exhibition or a show over the weekend, ESPECIALLY those of you who are off venue, please mail me asap right this second, now, with the whos whys wheres and whats.

This goes for every weekend hereonin, and weekdays too. If you want more people to see your thing (no pun intended), whatever it is, no matter how random, always let me know, send a flyer too....(and VIP invites, free booze and strippers if you can).

Besides advertising I do like to have my finger on the pulse, or at least try to.

As for now, I have the next 2 days off so that I can behave badly and throw whatever caution i have to the wind. Mr mcBain flies in í kvold to stay and help lead me astray even further as per last year....



Airwaves always is a complete headfuck. This is my first year being a local and having my own place and knowing a huge number of the Icelanders playing I shall be skipping here and there and everywhere. Or maybe I will just stand still for a change and let everyone come to me. Lord only knows.

There will be a shedload of pictures heading this way people... be warned, some of it won't be pretty...

Work the camera

Yes I have been posing again.

Saga, the young lady with the camera does make me feel princessy. Hoorah i love playing dress up and being silly.

regardez-vous

Renal failure

Jesus H Christ. Sometimes I long for the british way of drinking. You know, the 'lets have a few pints after work' brand. A glass or three of wine when you get home. A gradual pickling of the internal organs throughout the week training your system for a hard go at the weekend.

Here, alcohol is expensive. Expensive so that I generally don't touch booze throughout the week then more or less accept anything going at the weekends. The more wrong the mix, the cheaper the night is. Cheap fiscally that is, pricey on a pain and punishment level.

Miss Lauren Flax is the latest is my string of visitors. She arrived here on thursday and had a DJ set both that night and the friday and being hostess, I felt it was only my duty to accompany her, supping on a 'few' drinks and assisting the evenings in the way i (hazily) saw fit i.e. danicng on furniture and being loud and foolish.

The thursday was at Sirkus and I can all but throw myself at the feet of fate and thank it for only allowing the place to stay open until 1am, curtly cutting off any option of extreme frivolity. I was still fairly sloshed however. And the wonder that is my hormones has been inducing morning sickness all week. (Yes, morning sickness with no sex and stuff. the joy that is my body having a tantrum). So i felt like shite in the morning even though I had sleep and ate when I came home etc.




Lauren managed to sleep on friday until 4pm, which I have to say I was more than a little jealous about. Lilja and Neni came over early evening and we hit the usual Kitty punch (i.e. whatever booze anyone had thrown in a bowl. It always amazes me that it never tastes as lethal as it always is). We were summoned to Barinn where we had a table reserved with a litre bottle of Bacardi Razz on it.

For the record, in the UK i wouldn't touch bacardi with a barge pole, let alone flavoured bacardi. But needs must and it was freeee. So in our wisest moment we decided mixing it with red wine was a clever thing to do.

The night progressed with dancing and dancing and dancing and beer and flaming sambuccas and opal shots and gin. Most of the last few hours I am sure I resembled a haggard divorcee on a single parents weekend at Butlins, throwing myself about in what I thought were sexy moves but no doubt looked akin to some sort of fit.


It was a fun fun fun night. I danced so much and laughed so much and saw lots of friends. But as I hovered over my toilet at around 7am hurling my guts up, I had to admit it was a costly night.

Beg Borrow Steal

Well, i have borrowed too much money for my lifetime and my days of stealing from the tuck shop are long gone.

So its down to begging. Those of you who know Fanny and I will know how much we miss each other. Those of you who don't but have read enough of my online reports will gather how much we miss each other and those random strangers who happen accross this - let me tell you. We miss each other.

I have enough money to exist here happily in Iceland, but have (admittedly self-induced) debt which i need to throw any so called spare money at. Fanjita is newly married and living in a warehouse with several other people in London and by all accounts doesn't have a luxurious lifestyle.

I am, by nature, a generous soul. I feed those who need feeding, house those who need housing, help out where and when I can. I don't like this approach, but, its one of the many ways I am aiming to get enough cash together to get her over here. Just the flight is all we need.

British Airways do flights for around 80 to 100 quid. return, including tax. So its not impossible with a few bakes sales or something.

If it comes to it, I will put my knickers up for sale on SG. seriously. I want her to be here, to see my home here, to generally scare the living shit out of the Icelandic public with her squealing.

Any of you happening accross this who think I am a scavenger or beyond belief for this appeal can suck my balls, because if that's your opinion, you don't know me very well. I am a proud motherfucker and don't feel comfortable asking for support of this kind even though I don't bat an eyelid about dishing it out.

Even if its 20 pence you throw in our pot its appreciated, and if you can't or don't feel this is worth your 20pence, then that is more than fair enough. It was worth a shot.


Click on the image to get to paypal....

Its coming

That's right. Winter. The Winter. The 20 something hours of dark is on the visable horizon. This morning I walked to work in crisp air with brilliant sunshine blinding me. At 9am the sun was only just over the horizon and thusly my walk towards it was akin to walking towards a car headlights.



So far, I am feeling pretty chipper about it, but to say I am not nervous would be a lie. I have a project to work on through the winter to keep me active even if its at home. Some people don't get affected by the lack of daylight bar being fed up with it, others find themselves spiralling downwards throughout the winter. I hope I am not one of the latter.

The 2006 part of the winter is more or less covered for me, many visitors and events to race away the time so that I do not have time to get melancholy. Its the 2007 part I am more anxious about.... but that is a while away yet and for now its still brilliant sunshine.


Once again it has been a considerable amount of time since the last update. This is mainly because I have been entertaining yet more visitors. Mum and Mike came a few weeks ago and had a wonderful stay. The weather was sunny throughout and we had a really lovely time eating lushcious food and drinking much wine.


I held a tea party in their honour so that they could meet my friends when they were sober. ahem. It was glorious and I think they left feeling like I was in a much more secure place than they suspected.


There was a few days rest period, before my next guest arrived. Although it wasn't much of a rest. I went to help Sruli with his ex-crack house new apartment. Viddi and he had gutted the place, carpets, walls the lot. It already showed itself to be a promise of one of the greatest apartments i have seen here. It was distgusting though.





After washing myself several times the girlies headed over for the usual drinking and then off to Sirkus for KGBs last ever DJ night. I am more or less throwing myself on the floor and having a prize tantrum about this. The night was amazing and we danced on furniture for 4 hours solid. It should not be allowed. His retirement that is. There's hardly any Djs in this town who play party music rather than techno hell. Sigh.





This week, Joey arrived. He is another myspace friend who I have been writing to for around a year but had, up until this point, never met. He asked if he could stay for a few days on his way from the states to europe.

Sadly without any days off we couldnt go adventuring much, but I did cook some special treats and we did go out for a quiet few drinkies.

During the week i had a photo shoot with Saga, a girl far too talented with the camera than you would give credit. I was a corsetted sex machine and a distressed bride. It was ace fun. So far she has sent me one shot. This is it cropped slightly as its a touch revealing in its full status. I cannot wait to see the rest.



I have this weekend to myself and then a steady stream of guests begins. American, australian, english and my Dad. ahem. Should be much fun and running round like a headless chicken.

What else what else... hmmn oh yes. you must go look at the photo issue of WREJ.
Do it NOW.
Do it.
Do it.
Do it.

WRONG EYED JESUS MAGAZINE