I call it glam goth: Adam Lambert at the the American Music Awards, Lady Gaga’s photoshoot for Out magazine, Miley Cyrus in black eyeliner, Rihanna in a hasp collar, and sparkly vampires. Peter Murphy’s cameo in New moon is a long way from the opening scene of the Hunger. Bela Legosi really is dead. Goth is dead. Long live the new goth.

The gothsters (hipsters but wearing vinyl and platform heels) moan and groan that it’s not really goth. That it’s faux-goth. It’s surface level goth like Rihanna’s little foray into fetish wear in her Disturbia video.

Goth is much deeper and more meaningful like the Cure’s Lovecats.

Besides, goth isn’t fashion. It’s about the music. Of course, that music ranges from early darkwave to industrial to it’s current EBM/electropop phase. It’s goth if it gets played in at goth clubs? I guess this means Nirvana was goth for the 2 years the deejays overplayed Smells Like Teens Spirits.

Goth has always been about the exploration and acceptance of the darker nature of things. Who’s to say one person’s search is more valid than another’s?

The current economy coupled with the realization that some things will never be fixed is getting the mainstream to take a hard look at the Yin. Goth isn’t doom-and-gloom. Goth is the permission to look at those things that balance the light.

With the success of New Moon, which almost made more than the new Batman on opening weekend, Hollywood is repackaging goth (NCIS, the Vampire Diaries, Interview with a Vampire remake with Robert Downey Jr.) as I’m writing this. Last weekend, my friend Brad brought his corporate co-workers to one of the goth nights. The mainstream is flocking to see what the fuss is about.

It’s nice to see people learn to play in the dark. Just as long as it’s not slit-your-wrist dark because that would be emo and that’s faux-goth, too.

Category: I'm not goth | 0 - Leave a comment

My friend Clarice dresses in the skimpiest outfits when she goes dancing. She’s looks incredibly hot and so I’ve told her equally handsome, down-to-earth, one of the coolest guys in the world husband who dresses like he stepped out of a J Crew catalog.

Yes, I know the photos are a completely gratuitous attempt to spice up my blog with the sexy girl showing skin cliché. But hey, who am I to reinvent the wheel? All blogs need a little sex appeal and my fat ass certainly isn’t going to provide that.

(Side note: I’m eating Ben & Jerry’s ice cream while I’m writing this.)

Last night, a group of us celebrated her 23rd birthday. Clarice has had many 23rd birthday over the years and that’s just the way she likes it.

I met her dancing a few years ago through friends because the Denver alternative crowd is pretty small and eventually you meet everyone. I’m glad I did. She’s the only club person I know who knows how to lindy hop, and we have a blast swing dancing to the Cure’s Love Cats.

I’ve never heard her say a bad word about anyone..ever. She’s unassuming, bubbly, charming, funny, generous and modest and that’s why her friends universally adore her. She’s is nicest person that I know.

After dancing, she and her hubby hosted a movie night. On her birthday at 2am, she’s serving food, making sure everyone has drinks, showing people how to work the recliners and getting blankets and pillows so the people on the floor would be comfortable. All the while, everyone’s telling her to sit down and relax because we had already raided her fridge for frozen pizza and drinks as soon as we arrived. That’s what you get when you invite drunk people to your house in early hours.

Most of all, I admire her. She isn’t the type of person who defines herself by playing hostess to a bunch of inebriated guests in her family room which is roughly the size of my house, or being doting wife to a wonderful and successful husband.

She’s the type of person who defines herself by working 30 hour shifts in the Intensive Care Unit as a resident physician of one of the best hospitals in the city.

Happy birthday, Clarice! I hope your thirty-f twenty-third year will be spectacular.

Category: My friends don't care that I'm uncool | 2 - Leave a comment