Missing You

05/09/19

You know what I miss?  No, not that.  No, not that either.  Well, yes, I do, but that is not we're talking about.  I miss Goth.  The movement, not someone with an unfortunate name (I have just offended someone out there, I just know it).  It wasn't perfect but it had a lot going for it.  It had a huge potential for artistic expression that, sadly, never really came to full fruition.  Sure it had more than its share of pretentious twits but even so, it was still worthwhile.  Okay, in all fairness, there was a disturbing, mind-numbing, soul-crushing amount of pretentious twits, and all of them seemed to masturbate to the sound of their own voices.  Even so, I miss it.  And *insert deity here* deliver me from, and to, the Goth Chicks.

The artistic potential of it was huge and it managed to produced a lot of great material.  A lot of the art, the poetry especially,  had a certain vibe to it.  A lot of it is, unfairly, I feel, written off as the angsty whinings of self involved teens. There was plenty of that, to be sure, but, with a closer look you could see that it was sometimes a good deal more than just that.  For some, the poetry that was most vividly on display was not just on the page.  It continued in the clothes, the music, the make up, the sexuality, and, most importantly, the space it built.

The space of it was what I found most interesting.  It provided a dark space that could be comforting, the comfort of being seen without being seen.  The contrast between that darkness and the brilliant flashes of creative fire was, at times, stunningly beautiful.  It was a vibe that could allow pain to be felt and given vent to without being condemned for it.

Now, maybe I am just romanticizing it.  Maybe this is just the mental paintings of someone who was only able to view it all only from the sidelines, viewing from the outside looking in.  I was, and still am, painfully, cripplingly shy , but the contact I did have and the people I met were part of something special, part of the beginning of what could have been something wonderful.

I am also not one who believes in "the good old days".  There never were any good old days.  There were just days, and they were both good and bad the same as ever and ever.  As I said, it had more than its fair share of the pretentiousness and cliquishness and other bullshit same as any group of more than four humans, but once you scraped through it all, there was a lot that made it worth the effort.  You can find greatness in any age, but this was the one that spoke to me the loudest so far.

One other thing I find interesting is that the ones who, way back when, were so enamored with the death vibe aspect, now look back and say how silly they were now that they are older and, arguably, closer to actual death.  Maybe it is just experience looking back on a former obsession with a laugh.  But maybe, just maybe, that laugh has a twinge of the lost to it.

Also, say what you will, but no one could sack a city quite like the Goths.