Dear Halloween,
I think I need to break up with
you. The reasons are complicated, and it
may seem cliché, but please believe me. It’s not you…it is most definitely
me. Bear with me and I will try to
explain…
I think I am under the influence
of some sort of gypsy curse, which has undermined the magic of our secret yearly rendezvous
in the woods. In recent memory, our
illicit meetings have turned from hot role-playing shenanigans into a funhouse
mirror of distorted and disappointed expectations. The long and short of it is this: In my recent adult costuming life, no matter
how I try to dress up, I always end up looking like a slutty pirate. Don’t
believe me? Here’s an example of me
attempting to dress up as Harry Potter in 2011.
Imagine my preparations each
year. Everything looks like it is going well; this time a green face, excellent
latex scarring…glued bolts to the neck and then eventually… I just can’t help
it, I’m compelled to break into the rouge and it’s all “Yarrr..hello sailarrrr!”
from there on.
I know that my giving up on our
time together will either disappoint or even enrage my Celtic ancestors, from
where they celebrated some of your earliest festivals. Harvest time has come
and gone. It is the time when people say
farewell to the earth’s fertility and welcome the approach of Persephone’s cold
desolation. The darker portion of the world begins to emerge. It is said that the membrane between this
world and the Underworld begins to thin, becoming more of an opaque curtain.
It is the time of year that, for
ages, the Aossi… faeries and spirits-
are most active throughout the world. And from our earliest celebrations until
now, we have left offerings of food and drink to appease them so they will move
on. But if they were not appeased, they
would grow unruly and create all sorts of chaos, much like the little snot
gobblers of today; those little monsters hopped up on Kit Kats and Blow Pops,
chanting their unholy ruminations echoing throughout neighborhoods across the
world, “Trick or Treat, smell my feet,
give me something good to eat-“ Yeeaasshh. It’s a damn freak show out
there!
I am truly worried that my recent
misanthropy toward our holiday will indeed insult the spirits of my Celtic
ancestors. After all, do you remember how they used to fight their enemies? They would paint themselves up, strip naked
and then stimulate themselves to full erection (true story) before stampeding
down the hill toward their foes. Don’t mess with the Celts, am I right? How about THAT for a Halloween costume? Nah, never
mind. That’s been overdone by pixel newbs on nearly every seedy sim on the
grid. You might get banned from your
favorite places.
Granted, even though a herd of
screaming hairy men with hard-ons charging down a mossy hillock would seem
intimidating to most- (unless of course you’re like Helen of Troy, then you’re
probably all clasping your hands to your chest and squealing, “For me? All for
me!?” Not judging btw, after all I am Slutty McBlackbeard)-ultimately, these
stampeding nudists bounced off the wall of Roman shields, got speared in the
junk and died soon after. So there’s that. Now that I think about it, maybe I
don’t have much to worry about regarding my ancestors.
But I digress.
As of Sunday our Hunter’s Moon will
have disappeared. Today is the dawn of the new moon: the Beaver Moon… or also
called the Frosty Moon. All I have to say is keep that frigid beaver away from
me, knowwha’msayin’?
You can probably tell, Halloween,
that I still love you, I’m just upset that I’m not keeping up my end of the
bargain. Maybe we should be ‘non-exclusive’
for awhile, instead of breaking up altogether. We should try new things; new people. Maybe I will date a make-up artist and she
will help me deal with my rouge addiction. Maybe I can actually be Harry Potter
next year. Some will think that costume to be tragically outdated for
2016. All I can say is at least it won’t
be Harley Quinn. “Omigawd, I’m like soooo original?”
So where do we go from here?
Well, here are some places we can
start…The folks at Elysium (especially the owner Syn Beresford) always knows
how to party. And one of my favorite burlesque badasses, ElizaRose Gloom, spins
some always killer tunes at The Rabbit Hole (though space is super cozy there,
so go early and be cool to the regulars.(They had their
official bash on the 28th) Who
knows? Maybe soon we will be able to
snatch back some of that pumpkin spice in our relationship again, my Halloweenhella-hottie.
Just no Celtic Warrior costumes,
okay? Promise me. I REALLY like those places and I don’t want to get banned
from them.
Love and Kisses,
Your Slutty Pirate, Romero
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