Happy Halloween! Yeah, right.
I’m starting a blog instead of going out and having fun that involves other actual human beings. I figure in light of the title I’ve chosen, Halloween is an appropriate time to start. Furthermore, despite this being my favorite holiday, I somehow failed to make any plans. There are a number of contributing factors, poverty being foremost, but I won’t get into that right now. Let’s just say my costume options were discouragingly limited.
It’s probably just as well. It’s Wednesday, for goodness’ sake. As much as I enjoy running around dressed ghoulishly, I no longer feel strongly inclined to do so in the middle of the week. I’m just getting too old for this shit, hence the tagline “Confessions of a former goth princess.” I spent almost twenty years insisting that I was NOT a goth princess, but it’s better than being called emo.
At the risk of sounding like a pompous hag, I was a goth princess before there was such a thing as goth. Yes, I’m that old. I’m not sure who originally came up with that label, and I resented having it applied to me when it first started circulating, but now I’ve come to terms with it.
Back in the days of the dinosaurs (the early 80’s), I wore heavy black eyeliner, black lipstick, black nail polish and weird clothes. I listened to punk rock, rented old black-and-white horror movies, read Anne Rice, Ayn Rand, and Nietzsche, and had lots of preposterous, drunken pseudo-intellectual conversations in the dead of night with like-minded artistic young idiots. It was wonderful.
I am in serious danger of going on an elderly-sounding tirade about how stupid and shallow kids are today, so I’ll stop right here, and go make some popcorn and watch Nosferatu. Happy Halloween.
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