Where to begin?

I keep meaning to write stuff for this damn site, and then life happens. The latest episode in my life has been… odd…

Never mind my own personal issues (which if you’ve been a reader over the years you’ve probably realised are something along the lines of auto-erotic-toxic-narcissism or something). (more…)

It probably doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone, but the incidence of infidelity is rising in Australia. Be it part of mainstream culture becoming more sex obsessed (I don’t believe this is the case) or people are just getting horny from something in the water isn’t really the issue. The point is that monogamous relationships and marriages clearly aren’t working as a long term construct.

Predominantly there is the psychological component at play here. The fact is that everyone is a unique individual snowflake so we can basically break them down into a limited number of psychological typings, just like an emo. When it comes to experiencing love, John Lee¹ came up with six basic forms of love back in the 70s when that was all that was on anyone’s mind. It’s important to actually realise that there are different ways of loving someone romantically. We’re not talking about loving in a filial, platonic or bromantic way. Actual romance where it’s not creepy to have sex with. These different styles of love are after different things and are often grossly incompatible – he’s not the right guy, she’s just not that into, it’s not you it’s me. This is all directly from incompatibilities people experience between different styles of love.

Another part of this definitely comes down to biology. Till death do us part isn’t so hard when you’re meant to go off in battle and possibly die in your late teens/early 20s, and your life expectancy is barely 40. With the life spans of our generation having doubled over what they were a century ago, we have alot more time to grow bored with things, and we are nothing if not creatures of acclimatization. After all, it took less than a month for AshleyMadison, a website for people who are specifically looking to have a secret affair, to achieve 300,000 signups when it launched in Australia, well over a third of these were women².

So what’s my point?

(more…)

It’s been a while since I did an article series, so I thought I’d get back into it with something that’s been on my mind for a while now. One of the things about being somewhat, shall we call use a common term, voyeuristic is that I sit and I watch people. I do it all the time. It’s not a sexual thing, although it is enjoyable, exciting, and sometimes downright amusing, to watch other people engaged in sexual activities, it’s not always a sexual thing. I watch people at all times, observe, note, put it all down in a little book that I creepily file away when it’s complete and then judge you all in my mind… Ok, maybe not those last two parts. I’m rarely judgmental unless you happen to be a raving jizz-magician, and I certainly don’t keep track of everything in a little book, black or otherwise.

But I watch.

Ever since I watched the goth scene in Melbourne effectively start to implode due to internal politiking and little microfactions of people, I’ve been looking for somewhere else to hang out that still plays EBM, Industrial, etc. It’s why even when it was seemingly going strongly with 3-4 clubs per weekend I started to pull back from things. I found that new place inside the fetish clubbing community (although like all voyeuristic types, I still hang back and rarely directly engage… I should be a war journalist!), which in some ways has a large cross over within the goth community (fashion, music, dress aesthetic, insistence on drinking either absinthe or the cheapest shamppaggin), but more surprisingly has so few people in the actual cross over, socially. This is in direct contrast to something like the metal and the punk scenes where goths freely flow in and between them.

Observations about degrees of separation aside, one of the areas where the most basic cross overs seem to be are sexual mores. Areas such as:

• Bondage, Discipline, and who wears the pants;
• Sadomaschism, pain & angst;
• Sexual preferences vs sexual fetishes;
• Polyarmoury & Mahogany;
• Drawing the line and the people that Just Don’t Get It.

There are other subjects I’ll probably end up covering as the time goes by, but I’m just finding at an anecdotal level at the very least the interplay between people and their self ascribed, or 3rd party projected, sexuality, kinks and fetishes to be both an entirely engrossing thing as well as a breeding ground for the kind of drama that caused the initial fracture on the goth scene. The irony is that one supposes that so much of that drama doesn’t exist on the fetish scene, and in some ways it doesn’t… It’s simply replaced with an entirely different kind of drama. The flowchart of who’s slept with whom is on par, yet it doesn’t seem to be a cause of angst, unless you actually look at the ‘type’ of sleeping with.

And once again, it all come straight back down to communication.

No one ever seems to do it well.

So this series of articles is going to be an attempt at communicating what so few people manage to do on their own.

Allow me to tell you a tale.

I run a bookstore in Melbourne, Australia. A trip about as far from Massachusetts as it is possible to get, unless one happens to be a British convict. However, perhaps that should have read “I ran”.
For you see, within my realm of fantasy and speculative fiction, I have a “Cthulhu Cthable”, upon which recently had Where the Deep Ones Are, an illustrated children’s book, been added to its stock. To help display it, I sought an appropriate toy, a mere googaw, that children would be less likely to grab and grubbify with their horrible spawnling ichors – my Graduation Cthulhu plush was looking shabby. Degraded. Unsightly. Their pawing digits would only serve to destroy my sacred figurine.
Shopping about online lead me to the terrifying realisation that no longer were ToyVault producing more of my preferred icon, either. Link after link I clicked within the strange, whorling eddies that is Google Image search when using the CoolIris plugin, attempting to find a replacement at a price that would not leave me a pauper until my next paycheck.

And then I found it!

A site that had every imaginable horror that broken, vulgar, gibbering minds could contemplate and create. Turning to the page, I found myself on Regretsy… only, I was looking at an item that no one in love with Lovecraft would ever regret.
I found there monstrous chimera! Abominations unto felt! I had stumbled upon the sales profile of one Rebecca Blackberrythorn.
She had clearly studied under Herbert West, or at least somehow managed to stumble upon some of his arcane texts. Specifically, the ones concerning the creation of artificial life from dead tissues. Using only the proscribed proficiency one could gain from these forbidden tomes could the carcasses of so many nylons be stitched together to create what I beheld.

Since this thing came into my boutique, nothing but misfortune has come upon me.
Customers pick it up and laugh. Laugh! They are laughing at me! They query from whence it came or how much would it cost for them to purchase, then put it down laughing all the more! Never purchasing it. Couriers arrive and bring me a never ending stream of paperwork and books and jargon!
And it has been that way since 10:00am this very morning! Since the accursed thing arrived!

And it continues to sit there. A horrific visage that I cannot bear to continue looking upon. It’s gaping maw and vacant eyes simply staring into some terrible void that cannot be seen by mortal eyes, piping the music of Nox Arcana from the speaker it sits atop.
As I write this, a shiver runs my spine for I am aware that so long as this profane object is here, my fortunes will not reverse. I cannot bear to continue my living as I once had whilst I sit in its presence. I can feel a change coming upon me. A change that will prevent me from continuing to run my business as I once had.

I shall continue down this path unto madness…

Just as did once my dear friend and colleague, Bernard L Black…

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