I’d like to wish everyone a merry Christmas, Saturnalia, Winter Solstice, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and end of the fiscal fourth quarter. I think I’ve covered every holiday. May you all Wassail and find spooky gifts under your tree. This year, I received a Nightmare Before Christmas Monopoly, a few interesting novels, a blood-drip choker, eyeshadow, and Jack Skellington pajamas. Here they are:
I will definitely enjoy my gifts this year. I still have to finish The Lovely Bones and Lolita before the library charges me and before I start my insanely huge reading list. ><
Anyway, I leave you with this: One of the only good Christmas songs I know of.
It's been a decade since I first got into goth music and subculture. And, with my tongue firmly stuck to my cheek, I observe how I am still a baby bat! I'm young enough to still be called a "baby" at shows and club nights yet old enough to recall, with deep nostalgia, vying for a spot directly in front of the stage at my first Peter Murphy show nearly 10 years ago at a now-relocated venue in Atlanta... I also remember with fondness—and some embarrassment—writing a cliché poem for Peter Murphy, referring to him as the "original Bat." And, instead of keeping it to myself, I actually threw the typed poem up onto the stage directly following the show, hoping he'd pick it up and keep it in his breast pocket. Ah, the folly of youth! I don't recall there ever being this many bands of the goth or goth-adjacent persuasion playing in Atlanta since I got into the subculture. That's not to say there weren't plenty of bands playing this city. I only f...
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