Monday, December 29, 2008

In Which It Turns Out I'm The Wrong Sort Of Goth

[It's that time of the year when I dump emails and drafts into this blog to stop them hanging around for ever. This has been sitting there for maybe 4 months because it doesn't really have a conclusion, but just rambles for a short while]

I'm not actually a goth[1]. If I were one, apparently I'd be the wrong sort. The evidence: I prefer The Cure to The Sisters[2], prefer Les Daniels, Kim Newman and George Martin to Anne Rice, like Byron more than Shelley[3], and like Ted Hughes poetry over Sylvia Plath.

As it happens, I liked Ted Hughes as a kid mainly for The Iron Giant[4] (not poetry). Later, as I grew up into a teenager I preferred Sylvia Plath's poetry and in fact read and re-read her Bumper Fun Size Book Of Every Damn Poem She Ever Wrote[5]. It was only later when Hughes died and I finally got around to reading Tales From Ovid and, er, Birthday Letters that I finally made that decision. I say "er" because that is of course the collection of poems about his relationship with Plath.

[As I said it rambles. I did have an idea for finishing it, but can I find Birthday Letters, Tales From Ovid, or Bumper Fun Size Book Of Every Damn Poem She Ever Wrote? No I cannot.]

[1] There's not quite enough black in my wardrobe, I don't use eye makeup, I don't attend goth events very often and most importantly, I don't self-identify as a goth.
[2] And worse still don't get worked up about the differences. Not entirely coincidentally, when I logged into Youtube while grabbing a couple of links for this, it thought I might be interested in a Siouxsie and the Banshee's video of them covering a Beatles song.
[3] My choice for a tiebreak between the two is of course a swimming contest.
[4] It has a giant space-bat-angel-dragon in it. I say no more.
[5] Better known as Collected Poems.

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