Thing 283 Goth for a Day

The problem with allowing The Frenchman to take photos with his super-awesome-super-camera is that it makes things look so cool, that you may be temporarily unable to recognise a complete tool when presented with one...

Not so in this case, thank God. There's no questioning the toolishness of the above photo, and indeed there's little but tool to be seen in the photos below either. I'm not saying that all Goths are tools - simply that my attempt at looking like a Goth feel short of their style and hit the mark in-or-about the vampire kid/tool person.

Some people were surprised, including Little Flower that I'd never had a Goth phase as a teenager. I can see why they'd be surprised; I'm a fan of alternative music, including but not limited to Nirvana, Everclear, Smashing Pumpkins, Rage Against the Machine, System of a Down, Muse... I drink coffee excessively. I mean in shocking quantities that really aren't good for my health. Apparently this is some kind of pre-requisite for Goth culture. Not only do I read poetry and philosophy, which are cornerstones of the life of a pretentious brand of Goth, but I went and got myself a degree in these two things. I also have a very serious looking face. Apparently.
Despite all of that, I never qualified as a Goth. I had too much interest in sport. And colours that aren't black. I've been fond of other colours for some time now. Still, because so many of the people I regularly socialised with as a teenager were Goths, I've always been curious about it...

Goth-curious. It's a real thing.

So I slapped on the eye-makeup, and the black combats, black boots, black jumper, black coat and a strange choker thing on my neck. I also increased the seriousness of my face by a factor of thirty to fifty percent. The net result was a tool that you'd pick out from the other side of the street. A spectacular brand of tool the likes of which you've rarely seen.

I had a list of chores to do in my new found get-up. Post office to pay the ESB. The post office is strange. It seems like the kind of building that should be getting emptier and more run down, but it just gets busier instead. Lots of old people there. Elderly people love to stare at Goths apparently. Lots of staring at me. Lots of squirming out of me. That's not very Goth is it? They don't really squirm do they? I mean, they're proud of their lifestyle choice. Which is why they can wear Goth clothes and not look like tools. Confidence. The confidence to exercise their lifestyle choice.

Next was to the bank. A nice healthy mix of people in there, and I'm starting to think; Surely the whole world is used to Goths by now? Have we not grown accustomed to the black=clad members of our society, wafting, ghost like through our lives and coffee shops? Apparently not: there was a healthy mix of judgement in the bank.
Next errand was to the insurance place. Sat in the waiting area with about ten other customers. Phone rings. It's my ma. I totally forget that I'm supposed to be a Goth, which is quiet and unhappy. I'm all brimming with chat, and my Ma can be quite funny, so I'm having a laugh with her. By the time I hang up the phone they fella next to me is openly staring at me with the world's most confused look on his face. Oops.

Rounded out my day as a Goth with a trip to Arabica, where most people that I know like to hang out. Here's some free advice. If you feel like a giant tool, try to avoid places where people you know and like hang out. Otherwise they're going to magnify and intensify your feelings of toolishness.

Also, don't pose looking like an extra from a Blade movie for your housemates' benefit. The evidence (pictured above) will only serve to further embarrass you...