Death comes for us all (a melodramatic haiku of retirement)
Alas! this blog is
no longer where it is at.
Onwards! (Back to home.)



guts and garters

It's all fun and games until someone loses molecular cohesion.

Thursday, August 31, 2000

"When you dress nicely and look good, I feel proud," A said. "But when you're gothed up, I feel a little bit apologetic."
"Why?"
"Well, it does offend some people, you know."
"No one I care about offending."
"That's what Z said when he wore that skirt to Commencement."

He has a point, and it's one that matters to him. However, I can't deny the thrill that goes with my exhibitionism. Descending the stairs in a grand sweep of black last night, we encountered one of the usual, dull, unimaginative males. His response, eloquent as you please, was: "Holy Fuck."

I didn't even try to hold back the triumphant little smirk that played across my face. It's easy to attach convenient motives to my behaviour. I want to be better than people. I want to draw attention to myself. I want to be pretentious.

I don't. I want to shock these little unimaginative people out of their shells. I want them to realise 'racking' and 'footy' isn't everything there is to life. Maybe a futile gesture to attempt to draw these people into the world where I see such dark beauty, but an attempt I feel I have to make.

Besides, it's fun.

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