I had a job in a Sydney shoe shop
with Irvine Welsh in 95
he was a small 23yo Scottish woman
I was a noodle goth, 18
Trainspotting had just come out at the cinema
my friends did heroin
got arrested stealing mobile phones from cars
while I
did time in the storeroom
avoiding customers
Irvine and I took bellydancing lessons
drank Irn Bru in a Glebe café and
dossed in Bondi Junction
with the latest blue-bottled wine
it was before Facebook so
he will never find me now
Photo: John Broks on Unsplash
This photo was only taken ~20 years later. So beware kids – this recipe can have long-lasting effects.
Recipe for a goth teenager c. 1994
Hair dye
Booze – beer or cask wine
Long black skirt – essential if female, optional if male
Fishnets
Ribbons – purple, royal blue, crimson, green or silver
Acid
Nitrous Oxide
Tattoo/s
Piercing/s
Band T-shirts
Studded wrist bands, belts and collars
Industrial music: see Wax Trax! Records
Fairy wings
Glitter
Black eyeliner: pencil and liquid. Lots
Lipstick
Peroxide
Directions hair colour
Silver jewellery
Ability to travel to/from Newtown and/or Glebe Market
Cigarettes: standard, menthol or clove
Speed
Weed
Es
MDA
Butane
Canvas shoulder bag with band names
Doc boots
Stripy socks
Underwear as outerwear
Safety pins
A corset or something resembling a corset
Lace
Hair spray
Leather jacket: essential if male, optional if female
Mild-severe melancholy/ teen angst
The Cure, Bauhaus, Siouxie, Nick Cave, etc.
The Crow: movie, soundtrack, poster
Night clubs
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Deep insecurity coupled with awareness of own superiority
Interest in vampires / the occult
Optional extras: pet rat, dreadlocks, boy/girlfriend who wears black, playing in a band, friends who are also goths, interest in the fetish scene, an attitude
We had a lot of fun, really.
Today’s NaPoWriMo post was to write a poem inspired by, or in the form of, a recipe. Mum & Dad – please don’t read this one.
Wynyard, Wynyard
your windy yard
the vent we sat at
after dark
what a lark
all dressed in black
our faces painted
our hair teased up
Wynyard, Wynyard
your 70s brownness
serried escalators arc
unconsciously modernist
a real-life Jeffrey Smart
Wynyard, Wynyard
Sanctuary in your depths
the handicapped toilet
full of thick brown tiles
count them and you might
have the number of miles
we danced
or pranced
with trails of gossamer and tulle
following us through
your pitched inclines
our tresses
our rounded arms
brushing carelessly past
your unspecial address
with Town Hall before
and Circular Quay after
(the queen of the harbour
with her Cahill crown)
Wynyard, Wynyard
our gateway to town
the Hunter Connect
(always made me think
of that Computer Cat pet)
we kids
let loose
and yet
in your wide brown history
merely
another set
of passers by
as your steep shoulders shrug
and shudder with the trains below
an ancient spot
dressed up, ignored
tired of our bored
congress
Wynyard, Wynyard
tho
it seems odd
to cherish a dusty park
a station! a bus stop!
just off the bridge
Wynyard Wynyard
I hope you know
I think of you
(it surprised me too)
if not as the place
where dreams come true
at least a spot
where dreams embark
even scruffy ones
after dark
or: gave up, headed home
waiting
for a taxi to the North Shore
it’s changover time again…
enough – I’ll say no more
about
Wynyard, Wynyard
Link: https://soundcloud.com/user-808707280/wynyard
I don’t know why I suddenly had a nostalgic pang for this central-Sydney station but there you go. I did spend a lot of time there I guess. One for the old Sydney goths out there – particularly the North Shore ones (a select group to be sure!) And, obviously, I had to record it because anyone unfamiliar with Sydney will not know how to pronounce “Wynyard”. PS: Does Sydney do ‘Poems on the Underground’? 🙂
clairevetica 