New SOPOR Interview

There is an interview from October 2011, which has just been published in the independent GAUNT magazine. It can be viewed here.

GAUNT, issue #2

The Hobbit

... in the spirit of advertising hairy feet, here is a song from the 1977 animated version:

Hot Iron Maiden

The human body is a prison-cell. A dungeon. Made of skin, and flesh, and bone, and shit. - It's an ugly thing. Hideous.

Being a gothic fairy, born of sheer fabulousness, I might occasionally decorate its walls with flowers, pictures and/or shiny things … - but the rest of the time I rather just sit in one corner, trying to ignore the misery of it all … while my mind usually does its best to wander off to other spheres ...

Well, not today …

… because today my sis finally decided it was the perfect time to do one of her HOT IRON® workouts with me. Actually, she had announced her wickedly perverted idea the week before already, and ever since then I had been preparing myself for the challenge … - mentally, that is.
In fact, in an unexpected comatose state of chocolate-induced daydreaming, I had already begun to picture myself as the Jane Fonda of the gothic underground. Naturally, with my very own DVD fitness guide (also available as a nicely illustrated hardcover/paperback edition):

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + 

Auntie VaVa's
"Gothique Aerobics"
(Elegiac crunches to depressive music)

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + 

The cover would show dear AVC in a super hot (and only slightly photoshopped) black catsuit with silver horizontal stripes (because Jane Cantodea can pull this off anytime!) and a pair of trendy, self-made 80s legwarmers of the gentlest violet. For this shot, she would be posing in her very own studio, which - of course - is in an old attic with squeaky (yet polished!) ebony floorboards, an enormous round window of beautifully ornamented stained-glass at its north-end, with a black barre in front of it.

I was ready!

However, when my sis finally showed up today, carrying a variety of irons and a hideous bodystep, I was seriously beginning to doubt this whole idea. What was I thinking? The last time I had moved any muscle was more than … well, 55 years ago (or that's how it feels, anyway) ... - and for a good reason!

When she hit the play-button of her boombox, the first sound coming from the speakers was the sombre toll of a dark churchbell … and I thought:   

"YESSS, I can do this! Bring it on!" 

But then it all went ooontz-ooontz-ooontz … and after the mere warm-up, I basically … umm … fainted.

Hey, what did you expect?! I'm Goth, after all.
There is only a certain amount of … irony …  that my system call tolerate.

The Bells of Torture (by Don Nicholas Medina Oliver)

Seasonal Greetings

Welcome ... SCUM ... to the saddest blog in the entire known universe. You won't find any happiness here. Just random gothness in all its fabulous glory. Since our facebook account has been shut down, we solemnly promise to do our best ... to corrupt young minds everywhere via this gateway here. 

So, perhaps you should better leave ... NOW ...  while you still can. - Run, kids. RUN !!!

The image on this lovely postcard is a photo by Bruce LaBruce. I had sent this one to dear Mr Shavin' Genitalis a little while ago ... - and, surprise, it got delivered! Apparently, the trick is to decorate potentially pornographic imagery with pretty little stars. Well, it's either that ... or most people working for the postal service really are a bunch of perverts. Not that it would surprise me...