I have to admit that in most ways I'm a fake Goth. No black eyeliner or fingernail polish for me. It would look pretty stupid on a guy who's pushing 40 anyway, but even when I was younger that didn't appeal to me. As far as I got was wearing all black most of the time.
Goth to me was attitude, not appearance. It was anger and sorrow that my life didn't work out the way I wanted to, the same sort of anger that drives Michael as a character. It was lament-filled music like The Cure and Depeche Mode; it was drowning your grief in excess.
Nearly all that, I've put behind me, as my October 16 post said. But sometimes, I still adopt the attitude again, around this time of year, just for old times sake. And when I do that, I don the black once more.
The one piece of the old garb I still have is my black fedora. My friends call it "The Gaunt Man Hat," after the primary villain in the old TORG roleplaying game. Back in the day, I actually looked the part, tall, thin, with a black trench coat as the other main accessory. The trench is gone, but the hat remains.
I may not be the 20 year old skinny college student anymore, but I can still do dark and sinister pretty well. Thanks to my wife for the awesome pic.
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