2003-11-01 - 4:36 p.m.

The Grim Sweeper of Death

I didn't have a single trick-or-treator last night. It sucks. I bought tons of candy, totally decorated the place. Had all my candles going (which I'm sure is a violation of the state's fire code ... I'm a Sagittarius, we have problems with fire). Not a single kid.

I didn't go out, because after a pumpkin ale and the previous night, I was dead tired.

Anyway, I promised a picture of my costume:

I'm sorry about how fuzzy the picture turned out, but I couldn't operate my own camera and get a picture of myself. It seems that most folks who borrow my camera shake around a lot, which makes for fuzzy pictures (or in the case of some other non-halloween photos they just simply don't know how to take a picture). Though the light pouring in from behind me didn't help.

Anyway, next year I'm debating going as: Marvin the Martian, the Pillsbury Doughboy, or the Blutkind. Marvin is the most involved of the costumes and the Blutkind would be the one that nobody would get, except for EBM fans.

Notice the trend here? I don't like people to see me, and yet I want to stand out in a crowd. How conflicted is that?

Speaking of which, Thursday night one girl came running up to me early in the evening and cried, "[Contour], I was just telling my friends that the Reaper had to be you! Go ask! I knew it was you before you took off your mask." She was pretty excited to have guessed me, but added, "It was easy. First, only one guy would have dressed like that. Second, even in a costume I can recognize the way you dance."

The lesson is I'm fooling myself if I think I can ever conceal myself in a goth club.

n.p. frontline assembly :: gashed senses & crossfire

-=-

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