4th January 2008 at Mother in Londoom

SLURL

An Evening of Depeche Mode

Friday 28 November, join DJ Zarabella Ming for an evening of Depeche Mode and related projects, to be followed by DJ Damon Dollinger with a mix of electronic and whisky songs that'll slide in nicely with the sound. We'll have a sidewalk sale from a variety of merchants as well as a yard sale for the thrifty shopper.

No gesture spam, no dancers, no sploders, no bullshit. Relaxed atmosphere and good convo.

Lucky's at LostVegas http://slurl.com/secondlife/Goldbach/125/178/26

Hallo, ween.

Tonight, for the first time ever in London, I got trick or treaters. Though this may be because it's the first time I live in a neighborhood with more than one child, I think it's probably because trick or treating is just starting to catch on in the UK, though I can only speak for London, really.

I read an article in the paper the other day about one London borough distributing a free poster for people to put in their windows that states their lack of interest in participating in such tomfoolery as going door to door and asking for things.

Londoners are mystified when someone comes to the door. The door knocker or bell going, when you don't expect someone specific, is met with a gaze that morphs between contempt and outrage. When that someone comes after dark, in a pack, wearing dodgy costumes and demanding sweeties, the likelihood of delight on the part of the resident is slashed by 2/3rds, making it somewhere around the 0.0056320 mark, rough estimate. I actually curse when someone is at the door, and I'm not alone in this. Everyone I've ever lived with does it.  When it turns out to be the postman with something you've ordered, the ire is only marginally reduced by virtue of distraction, though you're probably still muttering about why he has to knock so bloody loudly.

But I've lived in the US and I know how much fun it can be to scare the fluids out of young kids and then ease the pain by giving them candies, all right in front of their parents and without the hassle of a collection van, storage, etc.¹

Every year for about five years, I took the precaution of buying some giant bag of sweeties - the good stuff, not the crap, cop-out sweeties - and would go about my business with one ear perked for a knock. Inevitably, nothing happened and I would wind up finding excuses to have chocolate for breakfast for a couple of weeks. This year, I bought nothing. And of course, this year, I got trick or treaters. I didn't answer the door. I figured this would be less of a let down than answering the door, instilling a flash of hope, and then basically offering onion soup and pennies. 

But lest you think the British are utterly opposed to fun or anything like it, let me point out that this part of the year is reserved for Guy Fawkes/Bonfire Night. This is the time we get together, consume apple based refreshments, light things on fire, make things explode and generally cause havoc to the nerve systems of household pets and the naturally timid. There is also Diwali to contend with. Both holidays are fire-and-explosion based in terms of celebrations which means that from halfway through October until nearly Christmas, things are exploding all over the city. I have mixed feelings about this, generally, but it's become part of the autumn to be serendaded by things going pop.

However, Halloween seems to be catching on with the younger parents and their children, and the newly arrived and it seems as if it'll be an inevitable part of popular culture soon enough. I, for one, am looking forward to roving gangs of tiny monsters seeking sugary satisfaction lest you get the egg. 

By the way, this ranks among the best things ever captured on video. Happy Halloween!

^[1]This is a joke. Do not alert the authorities.

RIP Gidget Gein

It's not how I intended to open this blog, but considering it's the only space in which I'm writing at the moment, I couldn't let it go by without comment.

The irreverent Gidget Gein (aka Bradley Anne Stewart), artist, designer, musician, man about town (and a founding member of Marilyn Manson and the Spooky Kids) died last night of an apparent drug overdose. The nature of his personality and his sense of the macabre initially had internet denizens doubting the truth of the rumours, but several calls made to the LA coroner's office confirmed the worst.

Gein had just signed a book deal to release his collection of stories written about his time as a 'bag boy' collecting the dead in Florida. He played a show with his new band at the House of Blues in LA on the 2nd and was preparing for his first solo show at La Luz de Jesus gallery - something he'd been hoping to land since his introduction to the gallery shortly after his move to Los Angeles.

Friend Lenora Claire stated that she would do whatever she could to make sure that the show, scheduled for February, goes ahead as planned.

No plans have yet been announced for memorial services. Gein was 39.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gidget_Gein for sketchy biographical info

http://myspace.com/gidgetgein for the real deal

There's a painting of his leaning against my wall as I type this, and a couple of his shirts hanging in my wardrobe. We'd spoken about a possible gallery show in London which never materialised. We weren't bffls, but I checked in on him often, and had a profound respect for his absolute refusal to be anything but himself, even at the price of "easy" fame and fortune. I simultaneously hope it was a mistake, and hope that it wasn't, so at least he had the choice. 

This has triggered a tsunami of emotion in my circle of friends for reasons I won't go into here. Because we all seem to have a particular outlook on death and what happens after which does not often lend itself to sadness, we are indulging in the selfishness of missing his presence and regretting not saying whatever it is we should have said before he went.

Safe passage.