548. Technicolor Dreamtime with Callum Z. Blabber

Callum Z. Blabber has had some time off this week, from the daily grind of updating former and current guests of Loveless Motel, or luring new ones. Far from getting away as originally planned, he's found himself stuck in his Aluminum City quarters, going through old boxes of shit he should have tossed years ago, cleaning cat boxes in "the cat room", and otherwise busying himself while his money sits unspent in his surprisingly healthy trust fund. His guilty pleasure, pursuit of a latent career in cabaret as a one man band has been on hold but he's even carved out a few hours of time to practice, despite the complaints of his nearby neighbors who complain that the thin tin can walls of a trailer seem to amplify the sound.  He's shrugged off the complaints and invited a few of the biggest complainers in for drinks and mini-concerts, and things have calmed down. His medley of Piaf tunes is particularly popular - he brings some of his pals to tears with his version of Non, je ne regrette rien, but they liven back up when he transitions to L'Accordeoniste.  Some of the guys are Certified Hustlers - it's like being in home territory. Since he can't sing and play the harmonica simultaneously, he hands out lyric sheets.  It's a fucking party!

 Of late, he's taken a few cat naps, something he looks forward to on a daily basis, because he's been having a series of wild dreams in vivid color. Not an imbiber of some of the drugs that float around the social hangouts around the resort, he's not quite sure what the source of the dreams are; there seem to be no familiar faces, and definitely no situations - just outrageous situations far out of reach of even some of the creations of Snap Wadmacher at Shutter Bug Camera Shop, but he's not too worried.  

Maybe he'll be able to use some of what he can remember as Loveless Tourist Rag fodder the next time he has to come up with a marketing campaign.  Time for another nap.

HEY CAL! WAKE UP BUDDY!  WE'RE CLOSING FOR AN HOUR SO THE SPOOGE PATROL CAN COME IN AND HOSE THE PLACE OUT!

Begrudgingly he snaps out of his dream, looks around and sees empty chairs around him, and the houselights up at the little movie theater at After Midnight Arcade.  "How long have I been sitting here?" "Buddy, you've been sitting here asleep for 8 hours,6 showings of this flick, your dick is hanging out and you're startin' to smell a little...better get a move on. See ya around.  Can't wait to read your story about this one, Cal!"

The accordionist

The prostitute is beautiful (lit. Girl of pleasure)

Over there on the corner

She has a client

Who fills her stockings up (pays)

When her job is done

She goes on her way

Looking for a bit of dreams

At a dancehall in the suburbs

Her man is an artist

He's a strange, little guy

An accordionist

Who knows how to play the java (a dance)

 

She hears the java

But she doesn't dance

She doesn't even look at the dancefloor

And her loving eyes

Follow the vigorous playing

And the wiry, long fingers of the artist

It gets under her skin

From the bottom, from the top

She has the urge to sing, it's physical

All of her being is tensed

Her breath is held

it's a work of art shaped by the music

The prostitute is sad

Over there on the corner

Her accordionist

Left to be a soldier

When he comes back from war

They will have a house

She will be the cashier

And he will be the boss

How beautiful life will be

They'll be true big-shots

And every night for her

He'll play the java

 

She hears the java

That she hums softly

She looks again at her accordionist

And her loving eyes

Follow the vigorous playing

And the wiry, long fingers of the artist

It gets under her skin

From the bottom, from the top

She has the urge to cry, it's physical

All of her being is tensed

Her breath is held

It's a work of art shaped by the music

 

The prostitute is alone

Over there on the corner

The girls who are sulking

The men don't want

And too bad if she dies

Her man is never coming back

Farewell to all of those beautiful dreams

Her life is fucked

Nevertheless her tired legs

Take her to the dive (dancehall)

Where there's another artist

Who plays all night long....

 

She hears the java

She listens to the java...

She closes her eyes...

Those wiry, vigorous fingers

It gets under her skin

From the bottom, from the top

She has the urge to yell out, it's physical

And so to forget

She begins to dance, to turn

To the sound of the music...

 

STOP!

Stop the music...

542. Poolside - No holes barred

 

Today we're asking the musical question: If a cowboy pokes his head out of the pool, what would he expect his view to be at Loveless Motel?  Even though it's not quite summer, some gents are enjoying the crisp, clear water, and the sights and sounds of the approaching summer season.  You may arrive alone, but you won't be unpaired very long.  We expect to meet your expectations at Loveless Motel.

These two pulled into the parking lot with their radiator overheated, and once they got checked in, parked the car over at the Motor Pool for a quick once-over by our team of qualified mechanics, and headed directly for the pool.  Once you're checked in, you don't need a ticket - there's usually a free show poolside, anywhere you look. We're not quite done with the musical questions: is it no holes barred or no holds barred?  We're using holes, so to speak.

538. Dirty Pool Crew Takes a Break

 

Dirty Pool construction crew best pals take a break.  The remodeling, headed by Project Manager Rock Blockhead, is nearing completion and promises to fulfill the needs of those who need to get a load done, and have a brew and shoot a friendly game of pool while they wait for their laundry cycles to complete. The Vagabond Bar over at Aluminum City is currently the happening place for all who want to rack a set of balls, since the demolition of the 8 Ball Bar and Laundry Room. 

512. Lifeguard Try-outs open soon!

 

Loveless Motel is gearing up for a wet and wild season by interviewing for Lifeguard positions for both Lake Loveless and our pool. Aspirants should join other interested men at the old hangar located in the Motor Pool area for a whistle blowing demonstration to be held soon, followed by a lecture on best blowing practices, recognizing situations in which blowing is the best course of action, and how to recover from an unsuccessful blow.

 You may bring your own whistle (please, no slide whistles or kazoos) or you may purchase a plastic souvenir gag whistle at a nominal cost, from the remaining stock of those offered at last year's popular Lunch and Learn lecture in the Grab-Basket Conference Room, "The the subtle differences between sucking and blowing" Whistles are randomly incised with either "Blow me at the Loveless Motel pool" or "I got blown at Loveless Motel" or "I got thrown out of the Loveless Motel Pool for blowing this whistle"

500. Like a Pendulum Do...with Marmite!

Shown in this photo at home last year in London, sporting his Mr. Popular Trophy and dressing to the left in his Suit Up! pinstripe number, personally fitted by our very own Mr. Billy Swallows of Suit Up! (located off the lobby at Loveless Motel) are "Dickey Loosedore" and his best mate "Bailey Alanski", the names under which they have checked into rooms 222 and adjoining 221, respectively.  Each likes his space - one needs to be prepared for any opportunity to personally welcome any Anglophiles with a craving for fur and the spectacularly uncut.

Given notice, the kitchen staff always stocks up on Marmite for the week for the couple, and places a picture of the Queen on the wall of the little alcove in Birdwhistle's Tearoom favored by our guests and held for them for the duration of the stay.

Suit Up! has remained our guests' little secret source since Mr. Billy's pre-Loveless Hollywood days, when he was in charge of costuming at a major studio and worked with Mr. Alanski on a number of his roles. Since Billy's relocation to our little "wood", London's Carnaby Street has nothing on Loveless Motel, which swings to the left this week, "like a pendulum do." In Tinsel Town, Billy was famed for his little parties, where select gentlemen were invited to stay overnight; Bailey always reckoned that Billy was a favorite American host, and maintained that he was a master at getting men to shed their inhibitions with the suggestion of a little Greek wrestling;  Bailey had been introduced to such exhibitions on more than one occasion. In fact as it turns out, his ability to toss and be tossed around was one factor that bound he and Dickey together for as long as the two tossers could remember.

Welcome back, Dickey and Bailey!

"England swings like a pendulum do..."

498. Yesteryear's Queers' Word of the Day #56 - Peacock Palace

Peacock Palace

A men's 

clothing shop 

specializing in 

flamboyant styles

-1960s-

"Have you heard there's a new peacock palace in town that specialized in brocade jock straps? I'm now officially mad about brocade!  You should see the shopkeeper there!  He talked me into one last week.  I'm gonna go down there and see if I can get him to talk me out of it this week"

483. Ginger Rarities - Archie's a Bottom - Who knew?

Convenience is our middle name at Hit and Split, your destination at Loveless Motel for the latest in, candy cigarettes, real ones, single cans of beer for daytrips into town, aspirin and condoms. Just in, some light reading material, reminding us that ginger men are a real rarity around here.  Catch one if you can.  Then, stop over to After Midnight Arcade and catch the latest addition to redhead beefcake, (we know the first gay naked man you ever saw in print was in Playgirl, and we've just received a used copy with a few pages that are stuck together)

Recent Loveless Motel  redhead visitors