It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring . . .
Rain. Yes. Glorious rain drumming on our tin roof and the world is reduced to runnels of water on the windows with grey and green outside. The baboons have been utter royal pests these past two days. Yesterday four or five large males were having a scrap through a few of the properties on our block so of course Nietzsche, bless his little cotton socks, decided to take on one of the chaps. Luckily for him, the baboon was more interested in injuring the other baboon and not the dog but it still resulted in a few heart-stopping moments.
Last night we were part of a posse of goths and people into BDSM who targetted a so-called "fetish" party held at Wadda. Luckily the club's owner was "in" on the conspiracy and set aside the upstairs balcony section for us to parade about, drinking bubbly, being tied up by Jack "The Roper" while admiring Gabbi, our most beguiling cage dancer. On screen were Thomas and Ronnie's collaborations, including KiTTY KiLL, On the Verge of Blood, some short films of their Black Milk Productions work. It was fun even though I was tired after having had only four hours' sleep the night before.
A short word on men. I despise them when they get drunk, see the cute gothgirl on the dancefloor then decide that she is "asking" to have assorted parts of her body fondled. There's a reason why we get edgy when rugby shirt-wearing, baggy jeans guys crash our parties. They get all touchy-feely. Last night I had to intervene twice and had another fool bounce into my once so that I actually almost told him to piss off.
When we attend your parties, we ask for respect. Our men don't hassle us while we dance and although we don't mind that you admire us for our devilishly devious dark sexuality, this doesn't give you the right to start feeling us up as if we were no more than some common prostitute. We are not "asking" for a screw. Most of us have boyfriends so don't get stroppy with us if we don't want to hand out our phone numbers.
But other than that, it was a cool party. I have the sneaky suspicion our presence was "too dark" for the regular crowd but for those that did get "into" it, it was great.
I suspect that we are busy creating a small fetish/goth scene here in Cape Town, largely centred around artists such as Ronnie/Dr-Benway, Jack's rope-tying and the assorted models, MUAs and beautiful women (I'm not one of them but it's nice hanging out with the pretty girls). Our bunch seem to be going to a lot of effort to Do Stuff (capitalisation intended) and, later today, will be yet more affirmation of our work.
Me, I'm merely a writer of dark fantasy fiction. What do I know? I'm off to hold a clipboard at the dastardly dangling of human bodies photoshoot later today. Which reminds me, I need to go wake up Dr-Benway from his exhaustion. The boy's killing himself for his art.
See:
dr-benway.deviantart.com
*Runs off to raise the dead*
Last night we were part of a posse of goths and people into BDSM who targetted a so-called "fetish" party held at Wadda. Luckily the club's owner was "in" on the conspiracy and set aside the upstairs balcony section for us to parade about, drinking bubbly, being tied up by Jack "The Roper" while admiring Gabbi, our most beguiling cage dancer. On screen were Thomas and Ronnie's collaborations, including KiTTY KiLL, On the Verge of Blood, some short films of their Black Milk Productions work. It was fun even though I was tired after having had only four hours' sleep the night before.
A short word on men. I despise them when they get drunk, see the cute gothgirl on the dancefloor then decide that she is "asking" to have assorted parts of her body fondled. There's a reason why we get edgy when rugby shirt-wearing, baggy jeans guys crash our parties. They get all touchy-feely. Last night I had to intervene twice and had another fool bounce into my once so that I actually almost told him to piss off.
When we attend your parties, we ask for respect. Our men don't hassle us while we dance and although we don't mind that you admire us for our devilishly devious dark sexuality, this doesn't give you the right to start feeling us up as if we were no more than some common prostitute. We are not "asking" for a screw. Most of us have boyfriends so don't get stroppy with us if we don't want to hand out our phone numbers.
But other than that, it was a cool party. I have the sneaky suspicion our presence was "too dark" for the regular crowd but for those that did get "into" it, it was great.
I suspect that we are busy creating a small fetish/goth scene here in Cape Town, largely centred around artists such as Ronnie/Dr-Benway, Jack's rope-tying and the assorted models, MUAs and beautiful women (I'm not one of them but it's nice hanging out with the pretty girls). Our bunch seem to be going to a lot of effort to Do Stuff (capitalisation intended) and, later today, will be yet more affirmation of our work.
Me, I'm merely a writer of dark fantasy fiction. What do I know? I'm off to hold a clipboard at the dastardly dangling of human bodies photoshoot later today. Which reminds me, I need to go wake up Dr-Benway from his exhaustion. The boy's killing himself for his art.
See:
dr-benway.deviantart.com
*Runs off to raise the dead*