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" i must confess-i cried"
discordia
akmed
i'm most struck by all the people i hoped would be there but were not-lyn, eve, gogo jojo, steven- a different generation, i know but the very ones who defined what it all was. there , at the birth, in the beginning. they are some of the only people ever who accepted me as i am. who let me be and had no demands about what i should be before they would interact with me .

i know how stratified and mass marketed and catty the scene is. but we started out as misfits with only each other and music. we had no money. we stole the clothes that we didnt make. we dyed our hair with magic markers because manic panic most definitely did not exist. we bought doc martins at the original allston beat on harvard ave in allston 3 sizes to big because that was the only place you could get them and they only seemed to have huge drag queen sizes.i cant say how many times i had the shit beat out of me on the street. but we went on- we dressed up and walked to the club through all the violence and sneering and taunting.

we dressed in bondage gear and walked through the streets to go out, often many miles. we didnt get in our beemer with a trench coat on and drive to the door. we didnt have cars. we didnt have money for a cab unless you were willing to pay in other ways.we wanted to dance. we wanted to be with our friends who all seemed to work at the coffee connection in harvard square.i had my friends. i had my music. it's all i wanted.

i still dont want anything from anyone. my motivation for befriending people is soley for friendship. if i need to be defined to your personal satisfaction before youll continue to interact with me you can fuck off. i dont care what you think i am . i dont care what you want me to be. most people would be better served analysing their own motivations and desires rather than trying to seperate out those of others as if i or anyone owes you that- an explanation that's suitable for why we exist for you-when we've done nothing of the sort to you.

if you think this is about you- it just might be.

eve is one of the few people who have come near to completely cutting me to the core. it took me years to figure this out- something she knew instinctively. eve was one of the most amazing woman i have ever known-completely screwed up but a magnificent club kid- beautiful, always fascinating to look at. a great danser. the best eve story isnt a man ray story but a boy night at axis story.

upstairs they used to have these huge wooden barrels- like the kind whiskey is stored in. they were for trash. eve was dancing with some woman and a guy tried to horn in on the action. he got on his knees between them and was bobbing his pinhead around. eve's partner whipped his dorky pork pie hat off and sent it sailing across the room. he shoved her. eve, who was not a very large woman, picked up one of those barrels, filled with empties, and dumped it on his head in the middle of the dance floor. the needle skipped straight across the record spinning in the dj booth and eveyone just stood there in stunned silence. when i went to work at axis nearly 10 years later one of the managers said- "hey i remember you..remember the night eve dumped that barrel on that guy...? "oh yes the stuff of legend.

eve was one of the first people i knew who took a bousitere, cut the cups out of it and went to the club with her tits hanging out , no tape on her nipples. and no one dared fuck with her. where are the real women like that? theyre all just pale passionless imitations of the real deal.

eve tried to seduce me one night, a room away from her then lover who was my best friend. typical drama sounding action but its what she said to me about myself that floored me.her understanding of me surpassed even my own and i was left speechless and terrified, my jaw nearly in my lap.of course im not an asshole so i would have never done something like that to a friend but now, 20 years later i wish i had,not slept with her, but accepted what she said as being what even then i knew it was- the truth. how different my life might have been but i suppose at the time i just wasnt ready to deal with it.

i guess for me in many ways man ray was only a memory even when open for the last decade. a tangible somewhat ghostly past clung to with sadness as much as hope for ressurrection, revisitation. still, i cried on that sidewalk tonight. get out your handkerchiefs-were totally going to loose our shit saturday.

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I remember you telling me about Eve. She seems like a totally amazing person. Maybe you can put up a missed connection on Craigslist and see if you can find her.

I cried last Friday as it was my last chance to go.

can you imagine the amount of men who would respond to that MC pretending to be eve hoping themselves to find her so she could kick their fucking ass?

i was pretty sure she was at that X show we went to at the Avagaylon. im also fairly certain she would beat the crap out of me if i went near her and god knows i could use it but my back isnt what it used to be..i'm pretty sure i could find her if i wanted to but the past is a country where they do things differently-it wouldnt be the same.

i always wished the neogothlettes could see her (her sister used to be floating around but i doubt i'd recognize her now as i didnt see much of her then)- i have a feeling she just might have been banned from manray because, well that was eve. still they'd all fall in love with her- everyone did. ive never seen a more amazing dancer. everyone- male, female, gay, straight everyone felll in love with eve.


X is coming around again with The Knitters! In case you're intertested.

Re: danger danger

yeah i think it's the 8th here but im going to be working. a lot. uh.

the later generation were happy to see you and spend these final daze (and for me, last night, that was absolutely the case...not so much booze although that was more than plentiful, but the heat, the old lovers, and again, spending the time with my loved ones (yeah...*enter emo chick moment here...and I will deck anyone who makes a snarky comment* etc.)

One last time my friend...one last gasp.

for the occassion the gods demand a sacrafice -and you KNOW what i want. bring me the head of elmo, the cookie monster of any animal backpack.

after we take it down, we'll divine with it's entrails. the question; where shall we go on weds. and fri.? then when we get the answer, well roll around in the blood and guts then strap that puppy to the hood and circle the block until our superiority as hunters is confirmed to the rest of the tribe.

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industrial noise. industrial toys.industrial poise.

"Maybe the people back in your day were actually decent human beings."

no, not really however the scene as it was hadnt had time to so completely align it's self with 1) mass marketing as run of the mill teenage angst thus supporting a large contingent of immature coddled mall rats with braided hairs across their stuck up asses and liberal access to someone elses, usually a parents', disposable income. 2) s/m.im not saying there was no connection whatsoever with s/m but my friends actually worked as prostitutes, strippers and in dungeons as jobs because they needed money and mother and father had some how forgotten to endow them with a trust fund or pay for a college education. i had friends who would go home, fuck someone just to get a meal that day and a place to sleep for a night. it was not a fashionable, liberated ' lifestyle' choice supported by a white collar job and hid in the suburbs until the weekend whisked you off in your BMW to a fetish night at some falling apart leaky club . they were surviving. they didnt have choices. a lot of them died from AIDS. some of them were murdered. that's real s/m, the kind you dont need a bank account to get a piece of. lily white would die and shrivel in their harness if someone gave them a dose of real pain and deprivation, if someone really excorsized total control over them and left them dead in a dumpster cut in pieces.

"Oh, and I hear ya on the rest of it…the DIY thing. Even I remember a time when pre-packaged rebellion wasn’t sold at the mall and people called me a “Satanist” for liking metal and “lesbian” for wearing combat boots and flannels…. "

it's actually a class thing in the end. nothing gloriously different and ground breaking and exciting was ever created by the todo incrowd. they just hop on for the ride after they stone the real innovator to death. from the misery of industrial manchester england to the original 'pit' in harvard square...more working class kids than not, more gay kids thrown out of their homes than ivy league closet cases...it's always oh so current to be viewed as an outcast and a rebel but when you truly are a real outcast and a rebel against common conventions- forget it- youre the village idiot with a case of the plague. so not cool.

androgynous people totally annoy everyone- even the self proclaimed gothic ' freaks'. theyre just as conventional and closed minded toward anything they find threatening to their social order as tele-evangalists or fag bashing college football players. if youre androgynous and female, youre a lesbian. if youre androgynous and male youre a fag. the s/m gothindustrialettes make great hay about being oh so accepting but its a farce , a charade.it's primarily a projection of their own quandry about their own sexuality and place in the world-it's also about class . women and men do not occupy the same social caste-throw that caste system into a tailspin because you dont fit into either slot whether by biology,looks,clothing, choice and see how quick they resort to epithets that would be considered homophobic and fascist coming out of the mouth of a republican or a religious leader or some ass driving by man ray in a car talking jive shit to the funny looking clubkids.


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