There’s a meme floating around that says, in essence, goths never really die. Their voices just become part of the chorus to The Sisters of Mercy’s “This Corrosion.”
It’s definitely worth the listen. True goth classic. I love that it’s a song at least in part about itself, in a sense, as the lyrics plead, “Sing ‘This Corrosion’ to me.” But of course the corrosion is also a metaphor by itself.
For my part, I’m picking at a bit of Spotify’s “Dark & Gothic” playlist as I write, though I also listened to some Type O Negative before that.
WELP the cat is trying to kick me out of the computer chair again, meowing at my feet, waiting for me to get up. She stole my spot earlier when I was up and about for a few minutes, then vacated the coveted seat after the personal pizza came out of the oven. Food motivated lol…reminds me of the story family tells about how I learned to crawl because there was an open pizza box on the floor across the room.
I don’t imagine today will be too adventurous of a day for me, as I’m waiting on some funds to arrive, and waiting on a home repair of sorts. And I’m a little low on gas regardless, so it’s not the best day for driving around to look for more murals to photograph.
However, tomorrow, there may be plans afoot to try an exotic seafood restaurant with a friend. So that’s fun, I suppose. More to do with food, all the same…but then, I am also all about poetry and music and streaming fun things full of pretty people.
Not feeling especially inspired this afternoon, though my sleep could’ve been better. That’s likely a factor. I do see time is almost up to submit to the local LGBTQIA+ art show. Maybe I’ll make a lil something today or tomorrow for that. We’ll see. Can’t hurt to try.
OH I did watch another episode of Interview with the Vampire since I got home. That was delightful.
I thought of something a bit more exciting to include for today… while watching V-Wars on Netflix, I was rather inspired by the idea of the Vourdalak vampire, which was apparently a thing long before V-Wars. Their venomous bite sedates their victims, on whom they feed over and over, keeping them paralyzed in languid terror.
And I wrote a poem, entitled “The Vourdalak’s Lover.”
For ease of reading:
The Vourdalak’s Lover
Limp and placid as the satin
sheets pooled upon the mattress,
there I lie waiting, already drained,
craving another venomous bite.
Lifeless but living still, eyelids
heavy, half-masted gaze dull
as paper, as inside I tussle
the languor, praying I remain
wakened long enough to see your
face. Tell me again of your mercy,
tell me how this is better than death.
All the Bright and Sparkly Things 
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