August 6th, 2004

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

I'm So Goth, Black Burns My Eyes

Spewkeeee goth-night last night. Ben went off to a dinner with work people. I was feeling tired and anti-social (how goth!!!) so I stayed home. Which means essentially, that was the first time I've been in Clifford alone.

I lit some candles (helewww! gothic!) and played some weepy Beethoven (your eyeliner would run like O.J.!) and then a perfectly melodramatic (goth much?) storm broke out. Lightening cracked the sky (oooo!) in great, mammoth forks through the window over the piano. The candles flickered (haunted!) and the keys were illuminated by nature's own spewkeeeeeee gothic strobelight.

I could see the parlour behind me in the old, warpy glass and I kept thinking I saw … thinnngs. But I played on, Beethoven getting weepier and moodier. Just like a goth!

The lightening was over Clifford directly. Rain flew against the millions of window panes in an almost horizontal flurry. A tree scraped its angst out against the piano window — oh! angst! I expected the power to flash out any moment, leaving me in a spewkeeee candle-lit, essentially strange house.

I don't know all the history of Clifford, but I do know that one of the former occupants was murdered in 1937 (thanks, Google!). Who knows what other creepy-crawlies could be lurking in the many crannies, and yes, even nooks, of Clifford.

I finished the spewkeee Beethoven amidst the deafening crashes of thunder, feeling more Jezebel than Gene Loves Jezebel, then burst forth with happy-fun ragtime, at which point all ghosts, spiders, bats and Death in June fans scurried away quick-as-you-please.

(In a spewkee manner though.)
  • Current Mood
    Gothier Than Thou