Text files Take A Bite
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I was living on the net, finding it harder and harder to string a sentence together without imagining a keyboard. I moved through real life with IRC back slashes to describe my movements.
It seemed like a good time to pack a few items into a bag, plug in the crimpers and step out into the darkness of the big room outside.
It takes a while to readjust. No matter what people have to say about the net and the global data community, it's not real life. Jolt cola tastes better with vodka in it for one thing, and the people move faster, much faster.
That was some months ago. In the meantime I have been investigating and researching, remembering and reminiscing, and slowly putting the whole thing together into this manual.
Welcome to "Take a Bite".
It's a sort of bible for the postindustrial generation; perhaps a grimoire, probably a cookbook, and definitely a user manual of the international net.goth community.
Eventually we had more material than we could possibly use, so a supplement, or second edition is probably in the works. Any comments or contributions, you know where I am!
So please, step inside "Take a Bite", but don't be surprised if the door slams shut behind you....
Ha ha ha ha......
/\../\ Sexbat
And now, the test:
Section 1 - What *do* you look like?
Section 2 - Music, Musicians, Muses
Section 3- Clubs
Section 4 - The Undead
Section 5 - On the road
Section 6 - At the movies
Section 7 - Hardercore than thou?
Section 8 - What's the difference between a Casual and a Redneck?
Section 9 - Brown Questions (Art Literature)
Section 10 - Courtesy of the University of London Union Old Goth Barstaff soc.
Section 11 - Drugs
Germanicus
If the barbarian tribes of pre-medieval 'Germany' had a philosophy it can probably be found in their writings. The Visigothic language is similar to old High German and Anglo-Saxon. However, my Anglo-Saxon is as rusty as my French, and besides they didn't actually write much down - all that exists are some passages from the Bible and some helpful phrases for the tourist:
Hwa Quithan = What can I say?
Wyrcan thone Wihagan = Make a shield wall!
Aaargh = I am presently being serrated by a drunken
psychotic, axe wielding, smelly, barbarian
However, we like to think of them as a bunch of axe wielding, psychotic, rather good looking men and women, dressed in black riding mighty war horses into battle, and eventually (axeidently (sic)) setting fire to Rome and bringing about the collapse of civilization and then going out for a beer.
Philosophically speaking we have the beer and the desire to strike terror into the hearts of mortal man in common.
That seems to be a useful beginning, and, as it would not do to dwell for too long on the fact that the visigoths were actually a group of crusties on the piss, let us consider the Medieval connection.
Medeivalis
Castles on hill tops, thunder, lightning, storm clouds, knights, dragons, musical song and dance numbers? There is a strong medievalistic element in many of today's goths. It's not an Arthurian yearning for days of chivalry and Grail quests, but rather a link with the quasi-fantastical 'romantic' aspect of the time and the genre. I think romanticism is the key here, we each have our own notion of the period and each associate it with different things. But as I appear to be bordering on psychology, and that is definitely not my field, I shall change the subject before I say something to start the Freudians twitching (....but I do have a thing for armour!).
There is more, of course, the Medieval period brought us the other legends of Camelot, those which did not so easily convert to the Christian ideal, the magic and dark forces, the supernatural! There are also the 'darker' characters (and again we know about them only through literature), Chaucer's Pardoner tells of plague and of Death stalking the land, The Gwain Poet describes the fatalistic humour of the Green Knight, and Malory of the Death of Arthur.
So from this period we get our sense of the fantastic - a sort of 'New Age with Attitude' tract which was further developed by some of the Romantic poets, oh, and the desire to ride around carrying a sword and 'smiting' people for the fun of it.
17th Century
The New Model Army were formed by Oliver Cromwell and went on Tour.
Romantic Period
The Romantic Junkie Poets were proto-goths, they fought, drank, took to many drugs, wore baggy shirts, and, like the barbarian tribes before them went to Italy to either die or misbehave (apart from Wordsworth who went to France and took part in the Revolution, and Coleridge who was too fat to be a goth but wrote some damn fine verses so he can join as long as he stands at the back).
Their own philosophy seemed to be a hedonistic celebration of nature and supernature almost on an anthropomorphic level, and a strong sense of individuality within the identity of their peer-group! I like them but Shelley was a better poet than Byron and I don't *care a toss* what the good Doctor says!
Victorian Decadence
The introduction of Vampire chic. This was a period more to do with the aesthetics of modern goth than it's underlying philosophy. However a certain element of moral turpitude could well have crept in. I suppose Dracula, although it was mainly about syph. , could be considered one of the great philosophical books of the period, or not, please yourself!
Punk
I've jumped ahead a bit here, but the pre-gothic subcultures from which we borrowed are worth considering briefly. No Leaders, Anarchistic Nihilism? No, I don't think we really borrowed that much from the punks as a whole - of course there are many individual goths who subscribe to these political doctrines - but it doesn't seem to be an integral part of the subculture today. Oh, and, "never trust a hippy!" - often a very useful bit of advice!
New Romantic
Again this was an aesthetic thing really. Adam Ant did a fair amount for breaking down the visual barriers and gave many male goths something to aspire to (beauty?) for the first time.
But then Ian Astbury was a Native American Indian about the same time, so maybe it was him.
Goth
One particular quote always springs to mind, it was made by a relatively insignificant heavy metal singer:
"It is about having as much fun as possible, doing as little damage to yourself and preferably none to those around you that you care about, and doing as much damage as possible to people you don't like."
But as
Summary
We have borrowed various philosophical elements from our historical sources, but the philosophical elements which are most clearly defined are: the desire to strike terror into the hearts of mortal man (or at least turn heads in the street), a romantic sense of the fantastic, the desire for pleasure in extremes, a visual identity within the subculture, questionable sexual and social practices, a fascination with supernature, the macabre, and the safety of being within a group where we get the in joke.
B is for bat: The bat is an essential logo, tattoo, pet, or item of jewellery. Partly because of it's vampiric associations, but also because they are cute and easy to draw.
C is for cloak: Opera capes are warm, stylish, keep the rain off your leathers, and are handy for concealing pump-action shot guns, samurai swords, or bottles of wine under.
D is for DM's: Not the ultimate goth boot as it doesn't have enough buckles, points, heels etc. But a very useful day-to-day/going to festivals type boot. You need at least 12 holes and again don't be confused into buying them in colours like: purple, red, invisible etc., but rather stick to the traditional black..
E is for Extensions: Add these to your head and you too can have knee length hair. Remember to wash them in bleach free washing powder and fabric conditioner.
F is for feathers: You can put feathers in your hair, your ear-rings, anywhere you like. From pigeon feathers for day to day wear, to eagle feathers for the Southern Death Cult Fan to Peacock feathers for the utterly demented.
G is for Goth, as having another with you counts as a fashion accessory!
H is for haircut: see our Beauty section for more details, but never underestimate the importance of hair. If you have short orange curly hair then get a Hat which also begins with H. There are lots of different types of hat, but we suggest Opera Hats, Top Hats, or Preacherman style Fedoras; or wide brimmed hats with lots of lace veils and black feathers for the funereal girly look.
I is for Individuality, which is why this A-Z is not dictating exactly what and how to wear things, but rather trying to give you some ideas that you can put together so you don't look like everyone else. I quite often see someone in the street and think it's a friend of mine. The truth is it isn't, but rather someone who either looks exactly like her, or someone who she looks exactly like, or maybe they're both trying to look like someone else, how should I know? Stop bothering me and go onto the next letter.
J is for Jacket: One of the few essential points of conformity is that it really must be black. What you paint on it, stick on it, and tie on it is really up to you. A waterproof fabric paint is the best type to use if you want to do it yourself.
K is for martial arts, such as Karate, Kung-Fu, Kendo, Kenjutsu, and all the ones that don't begin with K. Useful for dealing with the indie-kid/casual/ redneck problem. Not really a fashion accessory, rather a fashion statement.
L is for Lunch Box: I quite like the black batman one with the matching cup, but whatever you choose make sure it's customized with stickers or whatever. Ammunition Boxes are also popular in LA, but then they're probably easier to get hold of there.
M is for Make-Up Kit: at an absolute minimum it should contain some white foundation and an eyeliner pencil. Ideally you'll have some blush and a can of extreme conditions ultra hold hairspray from HELL.
N is for net.goth T-shirts (available from TaB or by ftp)
O if for Outrageous clothes.ie: Corsets, cross-dressing, fish-nets on the arms, Rubber, Leather etc,etc (we know they're not really that outrageous, we just needed something to fill up the letter 'O'.
P is for PVC: This is very popular in London at the moment, especially with the DiJ brigade. They have become known as "Plastic Goths" which someone thought was a kind of action man (TM) doll until it was pointed out that there was no crushed velvet action man (TM) clothes, and even if he did borrow Barbies (TM) there was still no saving his haircut. Anyway don't buy cheap PVC clothes as they tend to fall to pieces on the dance floor when you are trying to impress someone.
Q is for 'Quantum Goth' a look you want to try and avoid. It usually consists of a brand new band t-shirt and either black levi's or long tasselled skirts and army boots or Doc Martens. Often a larval stage for indie kids trying to make the transition to gothic butterflyhood so unless they get in your way it's decidedly unkind to rip their heads off. (see Extreme Violence: Indie Kids, Techniques: pages 101-534)
R is for Rat: a wonderful fashion accessory but read our section on pet care before getting one. Also make sure that it's house trained and that it doesn't have the plague as smelling of urine and having huge swelling is more usually associated with [insert your least favourite sub-culture here].
S is for Skin art: Tattoo's and Scarification (there's no such thing as a stick on scar, actually there is, but it's crap and it keeps falling off. You could always use Epoxy resin.)
T is for T-shirts: Alien sex fiend, Bauhaus, Fields of the Nephilim (last of the western hero's only), Ghost Dance, Rosetta Stone (gothic as f**k), Sisters of Mercy, to name but a few. Fashion gurus dictate that the sleeves should either be cut off or turned into a sort of shredded effect (see Knitting Patterns)
U is for Umbrella which is near enough essential over here as it always seems to rain after I have spent 2 hours getting ready. Large umbrellas are good, plastic see through ones with pink plastic handles which blow away in the slightest breeze are less handy. Sometimes a small foldable one can fit in the sleeve of your jacket and be used quite effectively on the dance floor (see dance)
V is for Victorian/Vampire look: frock coats, long dresses, corsets, frilly shirts, top hats, sword sticks, long teeth etc. etc.
W is for 'Where the hell did you buy that?' to which you should either reply 'up yours!' if they are being rude, or 'I had it made specially!' if they really like it and you actually got it at the store round the corner and they have racks of them available half price (remember stay unique)
X is for body piercing (as in what a pain it is having to take them all out if you have to have an X-Ray). Remember lads, having a ring through the end of your willy makes you pee like a watering can [Source - Zodiac Mindwarp]
Y is for Yellow (also orange, pink, green, blue, gold lame etc.) which are colours to avoid like the plague (see Rat)
Z is for Zoo, where you can adopt an animal like a bat, or a penguin if you want to. If you ask nicely and tell them that you are a reporter for Take a Bite they will let you take the animal home with you, or maybe to a club. (Then again they might not, which is a good idea if you adopt a wolf).
| YOU WILL NEED | YOU WON'T NEED |
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Phase 1:
Clean your skin. Cleanse, moisturise, tone. Rub it with apricot facial scrub, scratchy face pads, brillo pads, steel wool. Clean it till it bleeds. This removes any dead skin that you might have on your face. Dead things. You make my heart sing. The problem with dead skin is it tends to produce blotchy, patchy foundation.
If you need to shave, you should have already done it. The aftershave is going to hurt like hell, but, we have to suffer for our art, so the rest of us will just wait until you stop slapping your self in the face and screaming and then we'll continue.
DON'T Try to remove the top layer of your face will a spoon.
Phase 2:
Once you have wiped away the blood and dried everything off nicely it's time to start applying the foundation. Now before we ate her brains, the beautician mentioned something about adding a layer of a light skin tone coloured foundation before the white and using a spot concealer if you have a blemish, but after phase 1 you shouldn't have any zits or skin tone left so there. (You at the back! You can if you want to, OK?)
First of all put a wodge of it on the back of your hand and rub it in a bit; this is akin to an artist mixing paints on his or her palette. Then you can start to apply it evenly to your face. Don't forget to massage it in right from the top of your hairline to the base of your neck. If you have a hawk or something you probably need to do your ears too! I find it easier to draw stripes on my face (like Adam Ant) and then blend them in together. DO NOT FORGET TO BLEND THEM IN TOGETHER 'cos you'll look like a clown on bad acid.
If you are Nik Fiend you could put a bottle of liquid latex on your face or something. I have never tried it; but then I also never tried the special fried mice at the Super Garden Kitchen.
Now dust some of the powder or talcum powder over the foundation cream using the powder brush.
Repeat until you look like a flawless creature from the crypt.
DON'T use cocaine (too expensive) or flour (you'll end up covered in dough if you sweat)
DON'T mis-spell 'flour' as 'flower' in the prelims or Tamara will laugh at you
Phase 3:
Not everyone seems to realise that 'eyeliner' is for lining the edge of the eyelid and not slapping on underneath. Actually whatever way you want to do it works. Basically as long as you don't start drawing on your eyeball it's OK. You can draw all sorts of patterns, lines, dots, spiders webs. How Exciting!
You can do eyeshadow too if you want to. For the really adept, blend several shades together across your eyelid.
DON'T try and tattoo on your own eyeliner using a 6h pencil and a bottle of embalming fluid
Phase 4:
To apply blush, suck in your cheeks and brush GENTLY along the underside of your cheek bones. Keep adding depth until it looks like you are in an advanced state of consumption. Grey, Black, and Purple subtly combined give the very best effect.
DON'T Slap your face until you get bruises in exactly the right places as they might swell up.
Phase 5:
Try to avoid the old Fat Bob method of drawing all over your face with scarlet lipstick. It's kind of passe now. You can use the eyeliner pencil as lip-liner if you have a problem with keeping within the edges of your lips. Once you have got it on, blot once on tissue paper (that means biting gently with your lips on either side of a kleenex to absorb the excess moisture, oh, you knew that, sorry... I'll shut up shall I?)
Apply some sort of lip cover; it's a sort of varnish for your lips which stings if your lips are cracked but keeps the coloured stuff on all night no matter how much kissing, snakebite drinking, or jugular piercing you do.
DON'T Eat something poisonous to achieve 'blue-tinge' effect
Phase 6:
Get some gentle hairspray, NOT ULTIMATE HOLD AQUANET INFLAMMABLE DO NOT USE ON HUMANS hairspray. With your eyes shut, carefully spray any detailed or complicated eye or face make up you may have. Wait until it is dry before opening your eyes.
This provides a small protective layer which may prevent accidental smudges. (This is also not recommended by the hairspray manufacturers or by TaB directly. We can assume no responsibility for any skin damage caused by this technique. We all do it though, and apart from the seeping sores it works just fine.)
DON'T forget to extinguish all smoking materials first!
Phase 7:
If you are feeling festive you can use spirit gum to stick things to your face like at black sequins, stars, satellite dishes, house keys. What ever.
DON'T if you don't have to.
Phase 8:
Take care of your skin. If you decide to be oh-so-hardcore and wear makeup day and night for the rest of your life, you will probably end up with an imbalance of stuff. This can lead to all sorts of problems. TaB therefore recommends lots of cleansing lotions and at least one peel off face mask each week. Once again we don't condone the use of liquid latex as a beauty aid, but it probably works.
DON'T copy anyone else's make up. Instead you should steal it, modify it slightly, do it better, and accuse Them of copying You.
Caffeine content in mgs per 12 oz can:
| Jolt | 100.0 |
| Sugar-Free Mr. Pibb | 58.8 * |
| Mountain Dew | 54.0 * |
| Mello Yellow | 52.8 * |
| Tab | 46.8 |
| Coca-Cola | 45.6 |
| Diet Cola | 45.6 |
| Dr. Pepper | 39.6 |
| Pepsi Cola | 38.4 |
| Aspen | 36.0 * |
| Diet Pepsi | 36.0 |
| Canada Dry Cola | 30.0 |
| Canada Dry Diet Cola | 1.2 |
A 7 oz cup of coffee has the following caffeine content:
| Drip | 115-175 |
| Brewed | 80-135 |
| Instant | 65-100 |
| Decaf | 3-4 |
Tea actually has more caffeine per cup than coffee. Therefore the top 3 drinks with caffeine according to Take a Bite are:
Well you've bought your crimpers and plugged them in. What now? Well you need to wait for them to heat up, so make sure they aren't on top of any vinyl or anything and then go and have something to drink. While you are gone get some hairspray and give your hair a once over - making sure to spray underneath right down to the roots.
Hairspray - Words to look for: Hardrock original formula Aquanet Extra Firm Hold Extra Bastard Supreme Ozone Destroying Waterproof Words to avoid: Hair remover WD40 Furniture polish
Once the crimpers are hot, get a finger and thumb full of hair and crimp it with the crimpers as close to the root as possible. If the crimpers are hot enough you should hear and egg-n-bacon sizzle. Hold for about four or five seconds and then continue up the hair until you've done it all. Repeat until you are crimped.
Now I'm led to believe that this process is more common in Europe than the States, but apart from being a quick way of distinguishing between a person with black hair and a goth going shopping, crimping also makes further hair modification easier and is a pretty much essential precursor to the 'big and fluffy' haircuts detailed below.
Words to look for: blue black purple black permanent Words to avoid: golden yellow Just add salt and boiling water party fun Vetinary use only
That's all I have to say on the subject, but see also: Baldness (below). By the way hair dye seems to leave hair in a conditioned state which makes it almost impossible to spike.
Do not be fooled into believing that black hair dye is a good conditioner - 'cos it aint.
Here are 5 steps to a big 'fat bob' haircut and 6 steps to a mohawk. Follow this easy step plan for six days a week for 3 years and dye your hair on the 7th day and you too can have hair like Queen Elizabeth I. (bald)
Getting hair extensions put into your hair is expensive - Billy Idol has some and he is rich, blonde, has read too much William Gibson and never answers his e-mail. However, you can buy the fibers yourself and get someone to put them in for you. Here's how:
Here are a list of bald people who you might have heard of:
"I hear Nick's having really weird dreams again," Sarah said, leaning into Matt's bathroom mirror and drawing an even thicker line of makeup under her right eye. "When I called him today, he mentioned something about it. He was pissed at me that I woke him up."
"Oh?" said Matt, wandering into the doorway in a white shirt, tight black jeans, and a black vest. His hair was tied back off his face. "Do you think this would better with or without the vest?" Sarah lowered her pencil, looking critically at his reflection him in the mirror.
"Without. And take your hair down."
"But it doesn't tangle this way," Matt mumbled, reaching behind him and tugging at the elastic.
"But it looks much prettier that way. And besides, you're a hair-fuck, darling, you have to learn to take advantage of your assets."
"Not in the mood to take advantage of anything," Matt said, out of earshot of the bathroom, where Sarah was now putting on lipstick. He had had a bad day at work; he didn't even know why he had let Sarah talk him into going out to the clubs tonight. But it was a Friday, and they always went to the clubs on Friday.
"I thought when Nick stopped taking so much speed he stopped having freaky dreams," Matt said, louder, picking up on her previous comments.
"I'm not sure. I remember him having fucked up dreams before, though, when I was with him, and that was before he got into speed. Maybe Nick is just fucked up. Are you ready?"
"Yeah, I'm ready. I guess." Matt presented himself for her approval -- vestless, with his hair down over his shoulders. Sarah crossed the room to him and fluffed it. "Much better," she commented. "Do you want eyeliner?"
"Nah," Matt replied. "Stuff hurts my eyes."
There was a buzz from the intercom on the wall and Sarah turned to answer it. "Mzzr fmmmn nurvnm," spat the tiny speaker on the wall, and Sarah put her thumb down on the buzzer. "His lordship is here," she commented to Matt.
Some moments later there was a pounding on the door. Sarah had vanished once more into the bathroom, so Matt answered it. It was Nick, in a long grey trench coat, his short black hair flattened down on his head. He had a motorcycle helmet dangling from one hand. Nick was the consummate goth: an almost constant supply of drugs had made him scrawny; sleeping during the day had kept him pale. "Nick," Matt said in greeting, "you look like shit, man."
"Haven't been sleeping well," Nick mumbled, pushing past him, tossing his helmet down on a chair. He crossed to the couch and flopped down on it pushing one hand absently through his hair in an attempt to make it stand up in whatever style he had it in before he put on his helmet. Matt noticed his eyes had a strange tint to them. Nick had apparently started the night early, which would explain why he was late. He was waiting for the drugs to kick in. "What've you been up to?"
"Not much," Matt replied, rummaging through the closet for his favourite boots. "Working, mostly. Man's gotta make a living."
"Yeah, I suppose," Nick said, with a rueful smile. He wouldn't know, of course. Nick's lifestyle was supported by the computer software patents his father had willed him. Nick got royalty checks once a month, forwarded through his father's legal firm. The firm didn't care that Nick spent most of his money on drugs and motorcycles; they had their commissions, and Nick didn't bother them. Nick didn't understand what it was like to work six days a week, ten hours a day in order to make rent every month; Nick had never had to work.
Sarah came out of the bathroom with a rush, a grin on her face, and gave Nick a long hug and a kiss on the lips. Matt blinked, uncomfortably, looking down at the laces on his boots so he wouldn't have to watch. The intimacy shouldn't bother him that much -- after all, Sarah had been lovers with Nick before she had been lovers with Matt. But now both of them were her past history. Yet she gave Nick hugs and kisses, but stayed distant from Matt. The disparity in her behavior towards the two of them only served to remind him that even though they had called it quits eight months ago, he still wanted her. Yet another thing to brood on his mind. It was going to be a lousy night.
"How are you, Nick?" she asked, smiling, but looking concerned.
"I'm okay," Nick shrugged.
"You look horrible."
"I've looked worse."
"Very true," Sarah agreed, smiling. Nick smiled back. They were so comfortable together, Matt realized. More comfortable than he would ever be with her, although she spent most of her time at his apartment, and gave him advice on clothes and hair and anything else that sprung into her mind. Sarah and Nick had a bond. All Sarah and Matt had was a past relationship.
"Sorry I'm late," Nick apologized to Sarah as Matt retrieved his jacket from the closet. "I overslept."
"Oh yeah," Matt said, "I hear you've been having weird dreams again?"
Nick was silent for several seconds, as Matt emptied the pockets of his jacket onto the table -- spare change, flyers for upcoming shows, napkins with hastily scribbled phone numbers on them from women he had already forgotten. "Oh yeah, the dreams," Nick finally replied. "Yeah, I've been having a lot of them lately."
"I thought when you gave up speed you stopped having weird dreams, Nick," Matt commented, putting the cash and his driver's license back into the jacket.
"No man, you got it backwards," Nick looked up at him, and his black eyes bored into Matt's face. He wore a faint smile as he said, "I didn't quit speed to get rid of the dreams. I quit speed because it was _preventing_ the dreams. But now we're really going to be late. Shall we go?" He stood up, stuffing his hands once more into his pockets.
"No, wait," Matt said, holding out a hand. "Now I'm really curious. What the hell are these dreams all about?"
Nick shrugged, and looked absently at Sarah, who was adjusting her skirt under her jacket. "I've had them pretty much all my life. It's always pretty much the same thing: I'm in this room with no windows, or door, painted white. I'm sitting cross-legged on this futon thing. A woman is there. She's completely naked. She sits down across from me, cross-legged, so our knees are touching. She tells me to close my eyes and she'll give me the most incredible experience of my life."
"Oh, I've had these dreams," Matt laughed, putting his own jacket on.
"I'm not finished." Nick said, in a voice that made Matt stop moving and listen. "She tells me to close my eyes, and I do. But I can still see everything. I can see her, and I can see my own body, sitting there, across from her. Her hands touch my face. She kisses my eyelids. I can feel her hair on my skin. And then she reaches with her fingernails and pulls one of my eyeballs out of the socket."
"Jesus," Matt said.
"It doesn't hurt. In fact, it feels great. and I mean _great_, man. I'm practically coming right there. And I can still see everything. There's no blood. My eye looks kind of strange, resting in her palm like that.
"Then she holds one of them up to my face, and tells me to open my mouth, and when I do, she places one of my eyeballs into it."
"Yecchh, I don't want to hear this," Sarah held up her hands in defeat and moves to the kitchen, out of earshot. Matt turned expectantly back to Nick. He'd heard this much -- he might as well follow through. "Go on," he urged.
"Its an odd feeling, holding your own eye in your mouth. Its kind of slippery, and squishes in your teeth, like a grape. The woman tells me to bite down, and when I do, there's a squirt of liquid. But it doesn't taste too bad, and its chewey.
"And then the rush hits. And if it was good before, its incredible now. Its like no drug I've ever had. Its all your best lays, all your best trips on all the best and purest drugs, all at once, multiplied by about about ten. And it goes on and on and on, just washing over you over and over again, for what seems like hours. I usually wake up on the tail end of it. Leaves you a fucking wreck for an hour."
Matt was silent for a while, digesting Nick's story. Finally, he took a deep breath. "If its all the same to you," he finally said, "I'd rather stick with your basic dime-a-dozen wet dreams. You're a sick man, Nick."
Nick laughed. "Yeah, but at least I'm sick in a major way. None of this fucking around."
* * *
They arrived at Shades of Midnight just before eleven, and parked their motorcycles along the curb; Matt's ratty old Honda CB750 in stark contrast to Nick's brand-new tricked out CBR900. There were times Matt could be very jealous of Nick's money and the carelessness with which he handled it. Sarah had ridden with Nick on the way over. Matt knew that although she complained about how uncomfortable the sportbike's passenger seat was, Nicks bike would always been much more preferable to Matt's. Although Matt was not altogether jealous about that; it distracted him to have Sarah's arms around his hips when he rode.
There were surprisingly little people at the nightclub, for a Friday night. They only had to wait a short time in line before getting in. They went straight to the bar to order a drink before the prices went up; Matt and Nick had beers, Sarah a fruity mixed drink.
They had only been there a few minutes before a short woman with long curly black hair wandered up to them. "Nicholas, darling," she said, snaking an arm with many silver bangles on it around his thin waist. "I bear gifts for you." Her smile was flirty, the look in her eyes brutally sensual.
"Brenda, my love," Nick replied, bending down to her level and sweeping her into his arms. "Tell me, what kind of gifts?"
"Red gifts, blue gifts, purple gifts," Brenda replied, shamelessly feeding him pills she had already in her hand, her face less than an inch from his. Nick look them from her, sucking at her fingertips, grinning insanely, and leaning forward for a messy kiss, even more intimate than his friendly kisses with Sarah. Brenda squealed as he picked her up, but Matt noted she was unsurprised enough to curl one leg around his hips as he swung her around. He also noted Sarah's scowl even before he had turned to look at her.
"You are my goddess," Nick breathed out loud, and Brenda giggled stupidly. Matt felt like an idiot, being a part of this stupid seduction game. Brenda tried this every week, with varying intensity; this time it was especially bad. Matt didn't trust her. Especially since she had tried to seduce him not more than three weeks before then, and with the same tactics -- drugs, lots of them of dubious quality and dosage, given for free with a complete lack of interest in their actual effects as long as they helped her get her own way. And Nick was certainly the most appropriate victim for her tactics. "Come downstairs and dance with me." Without even checking to make sure she was following him, Nick took off for the stairs. Brenda stood and laughed as he departed, then turned back to look at Matt and Sarah.
"It was nice seeing you two," she said, in fake politeness, tilting her head in greeting.
"You know, there are better ways to get Nick into bed, Brenda," Sarah said, icily.
"Well, this one seems to be working pretty well," Brenda replied, smiling without amusement, her eyes locked with Sarah's, her body drawn up to its full height. "You aren't jealous, are you?"
"Of course not," Sarah replied. "But surely even you would prefer it if Nick were sober enough to be able to get it up."
"Trust me, Sarah," Brenda replied, cattily, "Around me, that is not a problem." And with a small grin, Brenda made her exit down the stairs after Nick.
"Bitch," Sarah swore under her breath. "I hate her."
"So you are jealous?" Matt asked, teasingly.
"Of course not," Sarah said, frowning at him. "I don't care who Nick fucks. But I wish she didn't feed him so many drugs. Its bad enough he can afford them all on his own without having them pushed down his throat at every turn."
"She didn't force them on him. He took them willingly."
"Yeah, I know. But that's Nick. He doesn't give a shit about his health. But someone's gotta look out for him, if he won't do it himself."
* * *
They saw Nick a few more times in their passes between the upstairs and downstairs levels of the nightclub. Brenda was always close to him, with a smug look on her face. He was laughing, almost hysterically at times, with a strange crazed look on his face. Matt wondered if perhaps Sarah was right, that Brenda was feeding him too many drugs. At it appeared as if Brenda didn't really care what she fed him. He noted that she rarely took any of the drugs she fed him herself.
* * *
"Boy, did you fuck that one up," Sarah commented as Matt came off the dance floor to where Sarah was standing by the bar, guarding his drink.
"Huh?" said Matt, looking at her quizzically.
"That girl over there, by the wall," Sarah tilted her head to the left. Matt looked to where she was gesturing; there was a young blonde woman in a very short miniskirt and black fishnet hose leaning against the wall, watching him idly. "She was dancing right at you. And you ignored her. Hell, you not only ignored her, you practically snubbed her."
"I didn't even know she was there."
"How could you not know she was there? She was all over you."
"I swear it, I wasn't paying attention." Matt shrugged, taking a long drink from his beer."
"Well then, go over there and introduce yourself."
Matt paused, then shook his head. "I'm really not interested."
"Not interested?" Sarah said, aghast. "She just your type! She's even blonde, come on? How could you not be interested in her?"
"I'm just not interested, at all. Not tonight."
"Come on, Matt --"
"Not now, Sarah, just let it drop," Matt retored, angrily. Sarah could be far too pushy at times.
Sarah held up her hands in concession, and leaned back against the bar. Several moments passed. "I know the real reason you're not interested." She finally stated, a small smile on her face.
"Why's that?" Matt took the bait.
"Because you're holding a torch for me," she replied, laughing, and reaching out to caress the back of his neck. Matt smiled back, but remained silent.
The joke was interrupted, suddenly, when the upstairs bartender crossed the floor to where they were standing. "You're the people with the tall gothic friend, aren't you?" he asked them. "The one who looks like Peter Murphy, aren't you?" he asked, and they nodded, amused at the comparison. "You'd better come up. He's fucked up pretty badly."
Matt sighed. This was usual for Nick; barely a month went by that he didn't get too drunk or too stoned to be able to stand. And his tantrums were legendary; he had trashed many a club in his time. Some clubs wounld't even let him in anymore, he had caused so much damage.
But something in the way the bartender had explained it this time was different. Sarah had noticed it, too. As they crossed to the stairs she groped for Matt's hand, and he squeezed it reassuringly.
Brenda was standing at the top of the stairs. A man Matt didn't know stood next to her, with his arm around her shoulders. She was sobbing, wiping her hands over and over in her skirt. Matt noted the smears of blood on her wrists. Just down the hall there a group of people clustered around the door to the bathroom. Sarah broke away from Matt and pushed anxiously through the crowd.
"Brenda," Matt asked the distraught young woman. "Brenda," he said again, catching her hand in his. It felt sticky and hot. "Brenda, what happened?"
"Ambulance on its way," the bartender who had led them upstairs noted, and Matt felt a sick feeling start in his stomach. This was wrong, very very wrong. He looked back to Brenda, and to the unknown man who was standing even closer and more protectively beside her. "What --" Nick started again.
"Nick," Branda blurted out, and then began to cry again. The man standing next to her shot Matt an angry look as if it were all Matt's fault.
"What about Nick, what has he done?" Matt repeated, gripping her wrist in his hand until she cried out with the pain.
"Your friend is sick, man." The unknown man spat at him. "She doesn't need to tell you what happened, go down and look for yourself." He gestured with his shoulder and wrapped his arms even more protectively around Brenda. Matt wondered if Brenda actually knew him.
Letting go of her hand, he nodded and pushed past the crowd that had gathered around the door. "Let me through," he said, shouldering past men and women who were pressing in towards the door.
Finally, he fought his way through. and then stopped stock still in the doorway. Nick was there, kneeling on the floor of the bathroom in the corner by the sink. He was bent over, his head and arm in Sarah's lap. His right arm lay on the floor, opening and closing slowly. Both of them were sitting in a thick smear of blood, and Sarah's hands were coated with it. She was shaking on the floor, shaking as she held Nick in her arms, soothing his hair back from his face, and murmuring quiet words to him.
"Fuck," Matt said, falling sideways in shock against the doorjamb. "What the hell happened?"
But Sarah was past talking; all she could do was shake and hold Nick's head in her arms. At the sound of Matt's voice, Nick's hand closed into a fist. With a jerk, he pushed himself upright, his right eye covered with his other hand. Blood oozed between his fingers. "I wanted to see," explained Nick, his left eye still bright with whatever combination of drugs he had taken that night. "The dreams. I wanted to find out, if it was that good. But I botched it, and Brenda woulnd't help me."
Sadly, Nick let his hand fall to his lap, and Matt reeled back at the sight. The left side of Nick's face was streaming with blood, all of it from his tortured right eye. His eyelid hung in tatters, and his eyeball had been neatly cut through the iris. The liquid within it oozed down his face, leaving a slightly translucent smear through the blood. The deflated balloon of his eyeball still hung within his eye cavity. Matt knew that the anguished, bloodied expression would be a vision he would see in his nightmares for years to come.
Yes, but 'deny everything' is one of the most basic rules isn't it? In all honesty, Uncle Andrew never wanted to be a goth he wanted to be a heavy metal star (or at the very least he wanted to take more speed than Lemmy or Iggy), it was *that* hat and coat which started the rumours.....
In my opinion this is where Rosetta Stone and Nosferatu are failing (especially Nosferatu!) They are self-proclaimed goths and will therefore never be on Top of the Pops. What they should do is appear on Saturday Morning Children's TV, preferably under the influence of some mind altering drug, wear waistcoats without anything on underneath, affect Mancunian accents, and ask "What's a goth?" to anyone that mentions the word.
From here they can expect regular features in the sort of glossy magazine written by 35 year old women who like to think they are 15, they can release more records than can possibly be good for them, and eventually end up playing to 35,000 *seated* venues; where their original fans are either refused admission by the security, or are crushed to death by hoards of pre-pubescent girlies with t-shirts reading 'Gothic as Flip' and white stilettos.
They can then do some charity shows, have some sort of motor accident, and eventually go bankrupt, change their haircuts, and keep trying to organize come-back tours which involve day-time appearances on 'Good Morning with Richard and Judy', but always fail miserably because they don't realise they are past it.
At least one member of the band will turn into David Bowie.
(None of this applies to the Utah Saints of course - please could we have some passes love S&J)
Andrew^H^H^H^H^H David
Dear David,
Why not do what Eldritch did and release "Under the Gun". It won't work, but at least you'll feel you tried. I'm afraid the only solution is to go and work in a pub in West Yorkshire.
I have sent you a 'fact sheet on How to become David Bowie'.
Dear Ticia,
One of my fangs broke off and now I have a speech defect, a swollen lip AND only one tooth. Last night I said to someone "I thant to thuck your blook!" Can you help?
A unident vampire from the home counties
Dear Unident,
Never mind dear, everyone has their cross to bear. You should have considered what was at stake earlier. Take a few moments for reflection. Now I know this sort of thing is a bit of a pain in the neck and all, but why not just get some plastic vampire teeth. I have sent you a fact sheet.
Dear Ticia,
I am a bit confused as to what is gothic and what isn't. I don't want to turn up wearing the wrong thing, read the wrong books, or listen to the wrong music. Can you help?
Clueless
Dear Clueless,
Here are a list of things that are gothic and things that aren't gothic just for you:
GOTH NOT GOTH
Black Dayglo Yellow
Black Pink
Black Ok, you get the general gist of the colour scheme
now. Just remember that Shelley never wore a black
shirt, and that Dracula's cape had a red lining in
the film (not the black & white one though).
Strange Hair cuts Perms, Flicks, 'Highlites'and colours
Death Suicide
Various types of music Various other types of music
Kebabs Sausage on a pole
Body modification Plastic surgery
Flammable hairspray Flammable clothing
Pointy teeth and feet Pointy noses and big ears
Vampire books Picture books about dogs and balls and children with
monosyllabic names.
Laughing at people Being an object of ridicule
Trainspotting Collecting Sisters of Mercy Records with obscure
catalogue numbers; oh, hang on, they're the wrong
way around (it's ok, we can sort it out before
we go to press -Ed)
Snakebite Ringworm
10. They wear bright clothes and plastic dayglo sunglasses.
9. They have deep tans and can often be found catching a few rays on the
beech.
8. They are great sport stars, often excelling at golf.
7. They keep up with the current trends in music and are always ready to
embrace new bands and stand by them once they have achieved mass
popularity and day-time airplay and never say accuse them of 'selling out'
or any such.
6. They have no sense of humour and would like to commit suicide, but
instead they sit around and talk about it alot - usually while listening
to The Smiths or other such dirges.
5. They are short and fat and have blonde hair.
4. They are teetotal.
3. They are keen folk dancers, often specialising in obscure and complex
dance steps with brightly coloured costumes with bells on
2. Many of them grow root vegetables for a living and collect Elvis
memorabilia.
1. The pope used to be a goth
And our survey said...
In a recent survey we asked a representative cross section of the gothic hierachy what their favourite things were. Here are the results:
Kebabs 5%
Speed 25% (although 40% refused to answer)
Snakebite & black 78%
Looking at self in mirror 99% (one claimed to be a vampire so we did
the you've smudged your eyeliner joke and
they went away)
Clubbing 50%
Gigging 50%
Go away, you are scaring me 20%
Take a Bite Investigates the lunchboxes of the rich and famous.
A feature on rats, bats, spiders, and snakes.
We'll probably lig some gigs and write about them, or maybe to an interview.
The results of the net.goth "Belfry Awards" 1993.
See you out there....
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The Electronic edition may be circulated and distributed in full providing no charge is made for the service on any network to which free access is available. If printed, the electronic edition becomes the standard edition and is subject to the constraints of the previous paragraph.
Transgressors will be persecuted to the full extent of the lore
ISBN 0 666 66666 6
(Internet SexBat Number)
Yeah!
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