accepting the mystery...

'twas the night before the night before xmas, and hidden away in her parent's house, paula varjack was writing this blog, quieter than a mouse.... i've been doing my best these last weeks to keep a low profile and do as little as possible (except drinking great ammounts of hot toddies and mulled wine that is) but amidst my inactivity, things i got up to just before the holiday season have all spilled out into fruition...like this little track i made for *you* to download.

http://paulavarjack.bandcamp.com/ and gosh how i'd love for you to forward it on. its really good to have something i can give away to whoever i please and whoever they please..and then there is the latest issue of paraphilia, the doppelganger issue. i've penned one of the stories, but i can't tell you which, you'll have to read it to find out... http://www.paraphiliamagazine.com/doppelganger.html

and last but most definitely not least, the video for waldemar's ^the bohemian^ featuring a little cameo from yours truly. enjoy, i'm going away now to light the fire and tuck some pressies under the tree. not sure when i next post here again, but i may have som stories after my italy trip visiting the marvelous maria maddalena aus cattolica for sylvester. season's greetings my darlings!!

hello, goodbye and an early xmas present

i've managed to cram a lot into my last few weeks in berlin for a while. soon i'll be able to post a link to the video for Waldemar's "the bohemian" and to my new website, but until then, i thought that i couldn't just leave berlin without giving you all something. so check this link out, where you can download a little uplifting track i've created to take you through the holiday season... and i guess its fair to say its an early gift for those i'm returning to in london too...
http://paulavarjack.bandcamp.com/

black jim gallery... rest in peace

Dear black jim,

It’s over

Its over…

Its’s over and I don’t even know why

Is it because I left?

Is it because I didn’t tell you I was gonna come back?

Is it because I took for granted

That you wouldn’t leave

Is it because…

Is it because...

Is it because...?

I know

I know

The door was always swinging open

For me to stumble in whenever I felt like

And stumble out

When I didn’t want

to stay

But you never took it personally

You always invited me back again

You always

Invited me back again

With open doors

And walls that smiled

Armchairs and sofas

That pulled me into their laps

Everything about you was

Tactile, warm, familiar

But you attracted me

Because you always made it new

Unconditional

My endless friend

My one time lover

Your walls that smiled

Everything about you felt

Tactile, warm, familiar

With images that always changed

faces and pictures

Your hand made stage

Of songs and words

You were my

Favourite after hour

My salon of a select few

You always knew

You always knew

You always knew

That This

wasn’t forever

But not easily forgotten

You leave

Listening

Whispering

Your space

Surrounds

These

Words

So I ask you

Is it over?

what does one wear to a funeral party?

i've had all manner of fashion dilemmas in my life, but this one has sort of stumped me. as i write this, my iron four poster bed is thick with layers of:
black dresses, black skirts, black tights.
velvets and spandex and satins all clamouring for attention. and why? well.. tomorrow night is the closing party of the black jim gallery, so named "the funeral" . and i'm as distraught about it closing its doors, as i am to say goodbye to a good friend. because that space in its short lived life was in deed a great friend. a meeting of ideas and minds and creativity, a place anyone could walk into have a coffee and simply take the space in and talk art and make music and wonderwhat is it about this city that draws us in and keeps us here.

a year later from when i first mused about my city schizoprhenia, i'm now at peace with it. one hand in london, one hand in berlin, and a year ahead of leaving both cities behind to tour with a small crew of international poets to see places i've wondered about but never seen, brussels, lisbon, warsaw to name a few.

friday night and i'm in, with no plans to leave (although if i was steppiong out into the cold, i woudl be at bang bang club in the next hours to see waldemar, and then back to kreuzberg as my mate dara launches a new club night practically stumbing distance away ) but no, this infamous party going hedonist as plans for one thing alone this week/end, the closing party tomorrow. which by the way will be my last gig in berlin for months at least. and the line up is not only astonishing but exhausting, things kick off four thirtyish and keep going until ten, with new performers up every twenty minutes, so really you shoudl come down and pay your respects. i'm on at ten past seven, i'll be reading a couple stories, sat down in a chair and everything, and i've written a poem especially to say goodbye, which i'll only post here after the night. and i may even do a little.. singing. it will be far from my regular set. because when a place this special is ending, i've got to pull out all the stops to commemorate it. so my darlings, drag out all that is black, don a veil and such and come down tomorrow night to Waldemarstrasse 21 in the heart of Kreuzberg, Berlin.

xxx miss varjack


p.s. and yes i did mean to tell you some stories of the shoot for the music video for Waldemar's "the bohemian" but perhaps i'll let you more about that next week when the video is up out in the outside world.