I am a Person

Seeing as you seem intelligent enough to understand, let me tell you something. I am a person. One who has feelings and emotions and I am sick to fucking death of being treated as only a provider of money. This may seem like a minor issue but to me it is a major issue. "But, you're not rich" you might say. Indeed, but I have earned over 100 grand a year and what do I have to show for it? Fuck all.

I set out to be a creative, inspiring individual but all people could see was what I could provide them with. Unfortunately, this had nothing to do with comfort of the soul - it was security, financial security. So I worked my arse off doing things I hated doing. I cut my hair short, which I didn't want to. I wore a suit which I hate as I feel like i'm being hung. I slept in my car, which in winter is not fucking fun at all. I travelled to places I didn't want to, on my own - always on my own. I seem to have spent so much time sleeping on my own, in strange places, it's depressing.

Then, when I had got the things that those people wanted, and maybe I could relax and just enjoy being - the shit gets taken away, again. So once more, I have to start from zero. Once more, the hair gets cut off and I have to prostitute myself again.

Every time I invest emotionally in anything, it all comes down to one thing - money. I'm fucking sick of it. I just want to have shit loads of money and give it away to the people who are asking and then I could say "Right, you've got what you wanted - now fuck off and leave me alone, forever".

There are things that I want to say but I never tell people. What's the fucking point, it's not like I matter unless I have money right? "Ooo you're so selfish" people say - why? Because I drink and smoke? Bollocks. If you spent as much time feeling as miserable as I did you'd have to do something.

"But people love you and they care for you", they say. Well, they've got a very selective way of showing it. They love me when I'm buying things or paying for things. They love me when they can go shopping and not worry about it. They never actually ask what I might want. Even if they do, it is fleeting and I can see that it is a rhetorical question. They don't actually want an answer and thus, I never tell them.

I discussed this with the psychotherapist when I went to see her - I opened up briefly and guess what? I fucking spoiled her day. She couldn't rationalise how I felt because I had the answers to every question she could ask. I'd already thought them through but everything looked black.

So what do I do? I listen to everyone elses problems and offer considered advice. I've heard so many stories of abuse, rape, bullying and other such nasty behaviour that it has tainted my very soul. But, all the time I try to be strong and profer the best advice I can at the time. No-one ever asks why I'm sad. Nobody ever asks how I feel, or why I behave the way that I do. They make huge leaps of assumption which are so far away from the mark that it's almost laughable.

Turn to religion some have suggested. Why? So I can listen to more bullshit and then give money at the end. I don't ask for much, in fact I don't ask for anything - a mistake maybe. But what's the point, I wouldn't fucking get shit anyway, unless I paid for it.

Well, at least there will be plenty of money when I'm dead - that's the beauty of life insurance (and I have to pay for that bastard too).

Lord of the Squares

It's kind of like Lord of the Rings but different in so far as it doesn't involve Elves, hobbits or trees that talk - ooh, and it has nothing to do with rings really.

Goth has a penchant for being awkward - well, damn right bloody stubborn if the truth is told. If the fashion is to have short hair, tough shit - Goth will be having long hair then. The fact that Goth can grow hair is just a testimony to the raging hormones, bubbling like a cauldron beneath the surface. Although, it could also be that Goth can't be arsed to go to a hairdresser.

Goth doesn't like 'popular' music. Who said it was popular? The mother fuckers who wanted to sell the shit, that's who. Music is an expressive art form that transcends boundaries, cultures and other clever stuff. Kylie Minogue fucking about and shaking her arse is not music. When was the last time you saw her play a musical instrument? - exactly!!! Never.

Goth likes to, and knows how to read - and not the pulp fiction that is tossed at him by some wanker who wants to get rid of shit books. Reading is good for the soul and expands the mind - it's also very handy when you're stuck in shitty places like airports, or planes or generally don't want to talk to the person next to you as they are full of shit.

Goth likes art and museums. Not because they're full of 3 million year old dinosaur bones but because they allow one to learn and become erudite (ha, bet you have to go and look that fucker up). Seriously, one can learn an awful lot from venturing into these crusty places inhabited by middle-aged women with no lives - well, they had to get the security from somewhere.

Goth hates marriage. Some pontificating twat decides that they have the divine ability to screw with 2 peoples lives. Boll-fucking-ucks. If you love someone, that should be good enough and if not, find someone else. Marriage is just the states way of defining what you can or can't do. But hey, you get tax breaks if you get married. DOH. I get tea breaks if I work (and it's cheaper).

Goth doesn't do mornings. Not that Goth doesn't like mornings - It's a fine time to go to bed. It's not that Goth can't get up, Goth doesn't want to. Goth likes the darkness - a good thing as people can't see how ugly he can be.

Generally, in the darkness, all the muppets have fucked off to try and get laid in discos or train stations and thus the conversation goes beyond "Whoa, look at the tits on her - I bet she goes" ... Goes where? Is she a taxi driver?

Anyway, mornings are full of boring things like breakfast and coffee and orange juice. Oh, and beer tastes shit in the morning.

So, Goth has decided to become Lord of the Squares - this entails, not being Lord of the Rings, at all, ever. Go and take your sad-arse somewhere else.

What else should Goth condemn???

To Clarify a Point

As some people seem to be struggling with reality - a tricky task I know, I feel the need to set the record straight.

Drama Queen is NOT my girlfriend.

Granted she has wonderful lungs (a polite way of saying that she has big tits .... oops), is blonde and wonderful in bed (oops again). She is not my girlfriend, well apart from the fact that she is my friend, and she's a girl, which kind of makes her a girlfriend. But not like that, sort of girlfriend thingy, shit, this isn't going at all to plan.

Look, we're just friends right, and she has a boyfriend, and he's cool and Oirish and she loves him and stuff. Well, she does lots of wibbly things to prove how much she loves him - so there.

Meanwhile, I just am. Not that I am, when they're together because that would be silly, or perverted or something.

On the other hand, there is Mariposa, who is my girlfriend. Who's not blonde but rather stunningly beautiful in another way - ha, with prettier eyes. And she's intelligent, and speaks 7 million languages - a bit like C3PO but without the poncy voice, and she's not made of metal, oh, and she doesn't have a small friend who looks like an upside down dustbin following her everywhere.

I know that they're not the same as we went for drinks together and I made them sit on opposite sides of the table so I didn't get confused.

So, when I talk about Mariposa, I am NOT talking about Drama Queen ok.

Yes, it is Mariposas birthday very soon......oh shit, that means I have to go shopping...again.

But Mariposa has my heart, DQ has my hand - as a friend, who is sort of a girl, but not a girlfriend. I mean, shit, who'd want to live with all those handbags. This isn't Goth in The City.

My Own Worst Enemy

I never worried about bullies - pea-brained numbskulls. I don't mean that I didn't do anything about them, I just out-thought them. Not hard to do really.

I don't worry about going to strange cities or meeting weird people - I can deal with all that shit.

Never really cared for authority in any shape or form - poke me with your self aggrandising bullshit and I'll kick you in the bollocks.

There are things that I do worry about. I worry about friends and family (particularly the mini-Goths) - except when I'm there as I can wrap them in my Gothic cloak and protect them.

The one thing I can't protect against is myself and my self-destructive nature. It's not because I hate myself as I don't although I can cry myself to sleep like anyone. I might appear sure, confident and spiky but that's just a mask.

I would never take out my anger on someone else, it's happened a couple of times and I have never really forgiven myself. Thus I take it out on myself - I just carry on cutting my life into pieces looking for the reason to believe.

Therefore, if it seems like I am spiralling, I probably am.

I know someone so intelligent should have the answers but I don't. It's not because I haven't looked for them - I just can't find them .


Somewhere, in the darkness, hides a small child I think. But he can't come out to play as the Goth is here now and I can't save me from myself.


Like I said - I'm my own worst enemy.

A Farewell From Goth

At last, I have managed to escape from the Big Blogger house. I have been trying to get out since day ONE but never managed to succeed until now.

My departure notice read as follows (for those of you who can't be arsed to go and find it) :-

At fucking last. Correct, I did not pimp myself, nor have I ever done. I never got asked to be invited into this cauldroun of tepid non-reality in the first place. I will stride out with my head held high, a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.

I am sure Big Blogger will admit that I have never changed my stance from day 1. I wish the remaining inmates all the best and I am sure you will endeavour to find new and entralling ways to annoy each other.

I have left a crate of alcohol in the bathroom as it is the one place I know Tippler never visits.

Enjoy and BB, sorry about the bat shit. The little rascals can't help it and Pampers don't do Pipistrelle size nappies - sorry.

*bows graciously and exits*

On a completely unrelated note, I noticed Mr Farty had a link to check the censor rating of your blog. Out of curiosity, I went to have a look to see what mine was (the highest I had previously seen was R).

Now bearing in mind, this is not a blog about sex as I am a virgin, and I do not include pictures - so what happened???



Bunch of fucking arse.

She Talks to Angels

A very good song by the Black Crowes but something I can relate to. I don't like men as I find them to be self-righteous, egotistical pricks with no sense of decency. It's why I am very insistent that if someone calls me a man, I correct them and say that I am a Goth.

I love women, all women and I think they like my company because I am me - I do not set out to intimidate or proove how big and clever I am. I just listen and learn - and funnily enough, the more I learn, the cleverer I become.

I love Mariposa above all because she understands my quirks - one's that if I am annoyed or cannot vocalise how I feel, I walk away until I can. I would not abandon her somewhere, rather make sure she is safe and move myself away until I had it figured out.

Certain things, I have in common with men - I hate shopping. Well, the female way of shopping that is. Shopping to me is knowing what you want, go to the shop and buy it and then go home. If I don't know where something is, I don't buy it. I don't want to be stuck in a large department store whilst hordes of elephant-like women scrummage around like a rugby team on acid.

Other things, I have more in common with women. I like pretty things, I like flowers and sunsets and walking hand in hand anywhere - although, I do confess I prefer this on a beach with the water lapping against my toes. I love poetry and art and literature.

I know it may song almost gay - I don't care. If someone chooses to make that inference then they would be wrong. I love beauty and I think beauty loves me.

I adore living and loving and being loved. I think I am and for that I feel blessed.

Te quiero Mariposa XXX

The Beginning

In the beginning, everything was black - and Goth loved this as it was cool and dark.


But some clever fucker wanted to have light. So Goth created light and thus, the not-so-clever now person said "Gadzooks" when they saw what they had done - to which Goth replied "Well, you insisted".

Then Goth had to go and invent stuff. Just because some silly twat wanted the lights on. So first, he invented the sea, but couldn't decide if it should be blue or green - Goth knew it shouldn't be yellow. Thus, the seas came, and they had nothing to do with Rye as that would be shit (but Goth hadn't invented shit yet). So the sea was blue, ish, if you squinted, but Goth hadn't invented eyes yet.

Then Goth invented the sky, and it was beautiful and pretty and so he invented clouds, that would piss on anyone's parade - purely because blue sky looked too tempting.

So Goth, in his infinite wisdom, invented land - which was kind of nice as it meant that nothing had to swim, they'd have a choice - unless they could fly. But at least they would have somewhere to land.

"Ah" thought Goth, "but what would have a choice?" - and thus, he had to invent stuff that walked or swam or flew. Basically, he was really busy for days.


And so, on Tuesday and Wednesday, Goth was busy inventing things - like jam, and toasters, and frogs, and armadillos and things that go "OOOO". Which was kind of cool for a while until Goth got bored and started inventing stupid stuff. "Bollocks, just superglue a beak on it"

"Master?" said Mini-Gothess, "How can it poo if it has no bum?" - 'Shit, hadn't thought about that' thought Goth. "And a front bum?" were the last words he heard. So Goth had to go away and think about the whole reproduction process.

'Shit, forgot about monkeys' thought Goth and thus the reproduction thing became a series of ooohs and aaahs and masturbation.

By Friday, Goth was really fed up with inventing things so he improvised a little and invented weekends away. Thus Saturday became the Sabbath - coming from 'Sbth the days Goths off'. (He had been working on tongues before he left).


And therefore it became Sunday too, for the lazy twats who were still pissed on Saturday - 'oo more wine please Mister Goth'.

And that's how it all started (ok, it's the short version but you really don't want the long one)