If you’d gone to Solstone last night, then you would have noticed a number of drinks on the menu that were rather… aimed at the otaku set, shall we say.

I could have gone the traditional steampunk route, and had a whole bunch of classical Victorian era cocktails…  But let’s face it, Solstone was not Euchronia and nor was it meant to be.

It was merely meant to be the first “theme” to a set of anime inspired parties that Manifest is intending to hold from here on in. And to that end, the drinks were geared towards the otaku audience. And what drinks to otaku like?

Ramune, sake, midori… sweet things, generally. But really people drink for two reasons: either to get drunk or to solve their problems.

And what could solve more of the types of problems you’re likely to get at an alcohol fueled NYE event full of teenagers and early 20 somethings than a Falcon Punch? (more…)

It’s around this time of the year that people are beginning to make plans for their NYE partying.

Me, I don’t plan to go to parties. I plan the parties themselves.

If anyone’s interested, I’m organising a masquerade / cosplay night entitled Solstone.

The theme is Artefacts & Enchantments, so the thinsg people are wearing alone should be interesting. I’m hoping with the provision of booze that what they’re no longer wearing later in the evening will be more so for many attendees.

I’m not going to give a full spiel about what it is here. You can go to the site for that. But I will say why I’m putting it on (with the funding of Manifest).

Last year, I went to Euchronia and I had a fucking awesome time… but then again, I’m pretty into that sort of scene, and that kind of music. I also remembered what it was like being a social malcontent that didn’t really fit in with any of the regular crowds, and having to go to house parties that actually really sucked for NYE, except that one year where I got to see Half Moon Bay actually entirely ablaze.

Euchronia’s not happening this year. So strike one for me. No plans. Sure, I could go to one of the clubs out there and listen to the same music I listen to month in, month out, with the same people, in the same clothes, drinking the same drinks… and it’ll just be more crowded and more expensive than my usual night out. That’s strike two.

Strike three would be deciding not to do anything and host a party at home… Been there, done that, had to clean up afterwards and hazily remembered that the lack of hair on my hands and arms was actually caused by me drunkenly setting myself on fire with Bacardi 151.

No strike three this year.

So I’m putting on the most awesome cosplay event ever to grace Australia. Nerd focused, as opposed to Goth, because it allows me to put on a wider variety of acts, have a wider variety of people, and play a wider variety of music (Dr. Steel, anyone?). I can also indulge my hobby of cocktailing by having a few sake and ramune based cocktails. When that stuff is glowing under the UV lights and freaky blue LEDs, you’ll be amazed that it doesn’t eat out your stomach lining and it manages to taste that good.

I hope you’ll think about joining me there.

P.S. Cosplayers are pretty much like goths. Just becaused they’re dressed in stuff that’d make a stripper blush doesn’t mean they’re actually into you, or anything you’re into… Except perhaps the particular thing they’re dressed as. Whilst this may be a chance for you to live out your Final Fantasy X, do consider some restraint.

I’ll admit it. I realised I was somewhat of a goth when I was a small child, when my primary school friends noted that my wardrobe was nearly devoid of colour.

I was chromatically challenged.

The problem was I was also somewhat fashionably challenged. I was on the grunge/metal end of goth… which is to say plain black Tshirts and jeans from K-mart, with some hard wearing boots, and maybe an all purpose leather jacket or coat.

This did not suit certain people in my life, who decided I needed to start going and seeing what “better” clothes I could be wearing… So for the last 3 years, I was getting dragged off to Circa Nocturna to see if there was something I’d like to wear that didn’t come from Tshirt Hell.

There was a lot, but most of it was well out of my price range once regular maintenance (read: weekly dry cleaning) was factored into the cost. Until I saw PurPur Fashion designs at the 2009 show.

However, it wasn’t until June that I got off my lazy arse and actually commissioned Kate to do something for me.

Kate Musina, the adorably Russian lass that is PurPur, has easily been the best thing to happen to my wardrobe in a very long time. While the whole process took just over a month, this did include the fact I had a very limited schedule for fittings, and made some difficult requests in regards to buttons and shoulder pips that needed to be factored in. During the whole process, she was the consummate professional, doing her best to make me feel at ease with the fitting and tailoring process (something I am admittedly not, as I hate having people wait on me. I’d be a terrible Dom).

The attention to detail was stupendous, with all my requests clearly taken into account. Possibly the only draw back is that I prefer my clothes loose and billowing, and Kate likes men to wear tight things… My physique does not agree with her sentiments, but we met halfway I believe.

The outfit, pictured, is pretty much inspired by fascist military uniforms, and was one of the set pieces at Circa Nocturna 09, and something I wanted in particular to have not just as a piece of regular clubbing attire, but also something to wear to Manifest.

The reception there was rather good. People consistently asking which anime/manga I was from, to which I would reply “No no, this is my weekend clothing”, only to be met with blank stares about the idea that someone could either not be in cosplay, or would actually wear something like that out in public.

All in all, a fantastic outfit, and great value for money.

There’s been a distinct lack of posts lately. I apologise for this. In my defence I’ve been busy organising a convention, trips to two other conventions, stock levels for products like wittily sloganned badges (What is the sound of one hand fapping?), and generally trying to not smoke whilst simultaneously not killing people in my immediate vicinity due to the amazingly stupid things they’re currently doing that affect my state of life.

So I’m smoking again…

Anyway, I’ve been in Adelaide for a bit. Odd city. Small, quiet, pleasant (except for the water). It’s large enough to be interesting without being overwhelming. I rather enjoy it. But the scene there is just odd. The whole place is somewhat contradictory.

Friday night, I’m out and about with Trey, and he’s dressed as he usually is, which is to say women’s cut clothing that’s otherwise fairly unisex. We’re in Rundle mall, a fairly gentrified part of Adelaide. I jokingly warn him that it gets pretty rough there. Within 30 seconds he’s being assualted by a guy with a mullet that would put Captain Planet’s to shame.

Coming to his defence isn’t an issue. I do it swiftly, wordlessly, and glare the redneck down. Promises of fucking up my cunt later, we’re away to find some Italian food while I decide maybe I should wear my riding gloves in case it happens again. For the rest of the evening people are looking at me as though I’m the thug.

Trey is getting progressively sicker, shivering  in a little quivering ball that refuses to eat, but happily makes his way through a quarter of a tequila bottle. Supposedly it’s better medicine than the Sudafed packed. Who am I to argue? To each their own, and surely my medicinal methods could be viewed just as strangely by others. Herbalists no doubt laugh at me with my empirically proven tinctures.

I like Adelaide. For all its eccentricities it contains surprises. Some of my most cherished friends are there. I get to see them perhap twice a year. This is probably why I value them so much… They’re simply not here to piss me off. If they were here, I question if they would help me move my furniture. I’m not sure on that one. Even if they intended to help, could they? They are all such small things, easily damaged in a crushing embrace, and powerless with shorter, even shawn, hair.

Sunday night was interesting in a way that it normally is not. A normal Sunday would involve wishing there was more weekend. Regrets of things not done. Thinking maybe somehow another day could be squeezed in, but truly knowing it can’t be. This one wasn’t like that. It was spent with two close friends and a virtual stranger.

It was also spent sober.

Oddly enoguh, that made the night more amusing, especially when it came to watching horrendously violent and pornographic videos that we proceeded to dub terribly, or play music in time to. This proves that a good time can be had without the assistance of alcohol, but an orgy generally can’t. It feels a waste that we didn’t have the orgy in true Roman style. A bathroom as overstated as the one we were in should probably have hada  bit of vomit thrown in with all the blue dye left behind.

Odd city for odd people.

I feel at home there…

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