Currently

Drinking: Bois de Rose.

Coveting: fucking everything in this shop.

Watching: Snog, Marry, Avoid.

Growing Up Gawthic

Fallen a bit behind on the blogging lately, but not for lack of things to talk about!

First and foremost... Stripped, Scared and Sacred is back. Love That Lovecraft! (Part One.) The sound quality of the podcast is much improved, as we went and got a decent microphone. Part Two of the Lovecraft extravaganza will be up soon, and features Andrew Harron and David Quast, both of who were in the recent production of An Evening With Professor Byron Price.

Also soon to be featured on the podcast... Tristan Risk! We talk a little about her role in American Mary but mostly we discuss growing up spooky. Keep an eye out for those upcoming guests!

I am so going to love being old.

I can't remember if I've posted my love for Advanced Style here before.

So I'll do it now. Best fashion blog ever.

"You may have noticed my brain is no longer pristine."

This morning, I finished Warren Ellis' Crooked Little Vein, a novel about a private investigator hired to track down the secret Constitution of the United States of America. It was... well. Warren Ellis.

Ellis has two settings: weird, and rant. These sometimes combine. I was introduced to Ellis first in the 90s, when he had a brief run on an Image series called DV8, the darker, aborted parasitic twin to the popular superhero book Gen13. Later, I would read Transmetropolitan and further cement my love for the insane old fuck. (I would also go on to get my third and fourth tattoos in honour of perhaps his most well-known creation, the fictional journalist Spider Jerusalem.)

Warren Ellis' work is populated by reprehensible characters, drugs, booze and ludicrously perverted sex acts. Crooked Little Vein is no exception. I read it in two days - it's only 275 pages or so - so it's rather like injecting some sort of vile concoction of amphetamines, LSD and cat-piss directly into your brain. That's a positive review, by the way. I very much enjoyed it.

Speaking of foul perverts...

Tonight it's La Fête Corsette. It's been quite some time since I've been to a Sin City event, but a friend organised a ladies night so it should be fun. As I understand it, a few of the girls are coming over to mine and Voodoo's house first to get ready, as some of them have never been to a fetish event before. (I always manage to bring virgins to these things.)

I've no idea what I'm wearing. Over the past couple of years I've gotten rid of most of my uber-gawthic garb, which used to be my default for such events. My good corset is black and underbust (I just cannot rock an overbust - I need support, not something just mashing my tits together) so I think I can pair it with one of my dresses or a pencil skirt and blouse to create something with this sort of feel. You know, rather femme fatale and glamourous. It may be odd for a burlesque performer to say this, but I do prefer coverage over prancing about in my underthings.

Okay. I'm going to stop this channel and clean my house now that my hair is set.