just the messenger

I’m obviously making goth cookies. I’ll have almost black cookies with red icing.

and I look like this:

Time for buckles to beget music. Stir in some bouncy sorrow, the kind you can write with under a crisp british beat. Toss in vocals from a choir voice egg, golden yolked and sickly sugar. Kill me a brace of briar rabbits, soft fur pelted from childhood dreams. Sear their hearts in garlic butter and salt them with tears.

There’s no reason to worry, this world is almost done.

Just a touch of heavy handed parenting, a snippet of front page news. You’re old enough to play in the kitchen. Violence like sex, honey, opiate for the masses like molasses, like maternity leave denied. I’ve an Ice Queen stir-stick, lick it with a rose-petal tongue but don’t beware the thorns. The bowls getting full now, hope bittersweet sprinkled to taste.

                                       baby got an atom bomb


Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

Trapped in Laguna Beach again, but today I’m not minding so much. My last saunter into the city was enough to keep me here contentedly enough for a day. I’ve got a camera and some fun props to play with. The light isn’t too bad. All the white in the front room softens the sunlight. Long slatted blinds and cotton/wood furniture. All very california, all very sweet with the hardwood floor.

New Years was nice. Alastair was cruel and dropped me off at a hairdressers. They dyed my hair a flat, almost metallic purple. It’s like the wild hair of a middle aged woman, I like it. There’s a certain Betty and Veronica aspect that amuses me no end. We were hours recovering from the amount of chemicals they doused me with, the hairspray was unbelievable. I can’t imagine how people use it everyday. How do they breathe??

We found a place called Ipso Facto, a goth store extrodinaire where we promptly fell in love. I have the first princess dress of my life. There’s still a delighted six year old screaming in my head wanting me to wear it again, three days later. Black ragged thing, I love it. It’s industrial, nasty, and charming all at once. It was old fashioned burst into flame time, if only I had some make-up or knew what to do with it.

We met a man at the party who goes by Captain Squid. He got a video of me dancing on a railing. Thrilling that I have my balance almost back. Three inches of wood a few feet up, slinking about above the crowd, I think I had the best view in the house of the circus on stage. They’re the folk I hope to hook up with. We were in a giant hotel next to Macarthur Park. The park of the cake in the rain fame, voted the worst song in the world seven years in a row back in the nineties.