Back in Black

You know that one thing that sits in the back of your mind and crops up from time and says "you know, you really oughta get off your sweet sweet cheeks and do _________" ? For some people this could be "skydiving," or "see New England in the Fall" (worth it, by the way), or "learn French", or "mud wrestle a dogfish." Each person has their own dreams, some more grand than others. For me, one of my great desires was to go to a Goth Club.

I don't know why, but those gloomy, dark clothed, pale faced, people have always fascinated me. They are, lets face it, a bit odd. But not that much when you think about it. Every subculture has their own philosophy whether or not their members realize it. Some are more obvious, like the Punk culture, which celebrates Anarchy and Rebellion. Or the Rastafarian movement, which actually has a religious side to it, mostly focused on Peace and Freedom. The Rap culture, which celebrates Power. The Indie rockers, who celebrate themselves and their exclusivity. Or even the Heavy Metal culture, which celebrates, I believe, stupidity.
So then you have the Goth culture. What in the world are they celebrating. Perhaps celebrating isn't the right word, but bear with me. In a sense, the Goth celebrates individuality much in the same was as the Punk would, but in an internal way. Goths are not activists, they are all about aesthetics and romanticism in the same way that their gothic literary counterparts were in the 19th century. I have always found that dark romanticism fascinating... and they look weird, which draws me in like some strange and beautiful freakshow.

Anyway, enough about those self-centered Goths and lets talk about me. I am not a Goth obviously. I think my mother had some secret fear of my becoming a Goth in highschool. I was certainly moody and gloomy enough to fit the role. And I did go through my punk rock skater phase, with my ultra baggy pants, bright pink hair and eventually eyebrow ring in college (its true), so I guess it was fair of her to wonder in which direction my teen angst would take me. I even have the sneaky suspicion that she kept me from buying dark clothes with her wily mother ways. But rest assured mothers of the world, I never felt the pull to the dark side. I think my teenage apathy was too strong to have me align with any ideology that demanded any sort of constancy. Plus, I am an introspective introvert. If I want to be gloomy and meditative I wont join a group to do so. I can mope just fine in my room thank you very much. I have years of practice. And all this despite my love of The Cure.

Even so, I have always felt curiosity to see what it was all about. Partly because you automatically want to do something your mom doesn't want you to do, but also because they just make me so dang curious. Like if their dark clothes had so many buckles to keep in all the secrets. So I wanted to infiltrate them and go to their parties. What do they do? Drink blood? Dance? Play spin the bottle? Light cats on fire? I just HAD to know. I tried to get a group together in boston a couple times, but it never panned out. But then, surprisingly, I mentioned it to a friend here the other day and they jumped at the opportunity... (to be continued)