this weekend: Friday, August 13th & Saturday, August 14th
Two Thousand & Ten A.D.

the roving, decadent, well-bedecked beast
is taking up residence at The Uptown in Oakland, CA

“…as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.”

:: but what is this ‘House of Usher’—this legendary construct of myth & mirth & mystery—without its cast of characters, its inhabitants? ::

First, Please Allow Me To Present…

Shawni Brothers, Proprietress of The Estate

The question posited, I hereby present a sampling of retinal treats under the auspices that it might inspire any indecisive whine-&-diners of this, my self-named blogature, to readjust one’s posture.

Sir Xavier Haight, The Gentleman of The House
&
Vocalist/Founder of Malign, The Critically-Acclaimed Darkwave Project

Cutting to the chase, with the swath of a switchblade: If you live anywhere in the vicinity of this one-two punch of delectable darkness: even a cursory glance at the gorgeous creatures that follow should propel you off your gluteous maximus & rifling through your closet.

Case in point? The hyper-hyphenate & über-hottie Zoetica Ebb, as pictured above. Of course, you could stay in tonight & lurk endless jpegs of her posted at Biorequiem, her home base among the internet ethers—or you could even go all brainiacattack (accusations of gay? who, me? NEVER. I would not!) & explore Miss Ebb’s prolific outpourings at the subculturally essential—let alone just downright damn sublime—thick & slick & glossy-paged love-letter to alternative culture known as  Coilhouse magazine, of which she was a co-founder.

Or, hey!  Here’s an idea: how ’bout you just stay home with a family-sized bag of Cheetos & instead of licking the nuclear-hued dandruff off your fingertips, close your eyes & BEAT IT, BOSS
all breathin’ heavy & visualizing this fab fascinatrix you might—no promises from me, as this world we live in? a pretty damn cruel place…

But yeah, you might have a chance to stand close enough to do borderline* creepy stuff like fill your lungs with the stink of her hair.

The asterisk on “borderline”?  Bitch, you already know this! Because when we’re crushed-out, there’s some intense delusional hormones released that sell us clichés like how [we] “can’t help the way we feel,” and “no, I really mean it, you guys: this time isn’t like the last time when I said it’s about time I found the right [pick a pronoun, rinse, repeat; double-up on those appointments to the shrink, as close friends will only sigh in disgust, hang up, or pay someone to fark some sense into you. Quickly].”

Kay, I really need to focus here.

Ah! That’s right! The equation of your hormones with a jaunt to Usher this fine eve…

Unless, of course, you’ve slipped past that veritable point of ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE into a life of Ed Hardy sweatpants, woven leather belts the color of fecal matter, headbands from mega-corporate “non-corporate” franchises prominently listed—even & especially if by invisible ink—on the trustafarian American-Apparel-Apparel-Is-My-Idea-Of-Slumming, Ma-a-an pseudo post-post-ironic Hipster Checklist Of [COUGH!] Cool.

✷ Cunty Ranting Hereby Interrupted for A Ceasura of Correctness Maximus ✷

L O O K  †  U P O N
T H E S E † L O V E L Y † L A D I E S

Nakoeth [L] a.k.a. ‘The D.J. Formerly Known As Fuchsia’: Esteemed Provisionist of Hand-Picked Auditory Delights, &
Sorrel Smith [R], A Prodigious Talent of The Visual Arts Who Renders
Her Paintings, Portraits, & Illustrations With Consummate Skill

✷ Palettes Cleansed, Corneas Stimulated…HEED THESE WORDS AS ‘CAUTION TAPE’ FOR YOUR PSYCHE, ✷ As There’s A Shifting Of Gears Back To Vitriolic Territory ✷ (Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.) ✷

Pfft! Oh.&.Yeah: The “Checklist of Cool.” That tripe’s more played-out than Dexy Midnight Runner’s lethal earworm known as “Come On Eileen,”  but then again?  Chances are if you’ve read—that’s read, any blog-skimmerexic stereotypes who’re in full-blown desperato zone, scrolling with sweaty palms & a  staggering 2.8 second average attention span (thanks to the ADHD Pharmers calculated into the same demo/grapho/frankly, let’s-not-get-too-graphic, whose intake of Mother’s Little Helpers fluff up those stats as effectively as a porn set’s invaluable blow-hards working behind-the-scenes)…

Anyway, as I was saying–or, at the very least, attempting to communicate before I reverted to an unfortunate habit of interrupting myself with tangential matter & tossing parentheses around with the same ease as a game of horse-shoes…

:: HERE. HERE’S THIS ::

with Ryan Rosprim [L], Maker-Ov-Musick from Kill Sister Kill:
A Band Among the ‘Short List’ of House Faves
& on the [R]? Most applicable? The Court Jester, if anything!
(Incidentally, if I look like a bitch here? Alas! A photographic representation that’s accurate)

You you you, yeah, you: with your insatiable hunger for celebrity gossip, commerce tagged as “sharing a secret” (such a flagrant ploy to incite the domino effect among the dumbed-down click, copy, paste & repost crowd to create viral content…yet just like the anything-but-accidental exposure of thongs several inches above [insert name of trendy jeans] horizon being the visual equivalent of a mating call, it’s as fool-proof as the endless supply of fools).

Umm, yeah. Whaddya say we don’t “revisit” the aforementioned yawn-fest (not to mention time-suck kthnxthoractuallyeallynot) & visualize the rapid sweeping gesture responsible for ~magic~ on a dry erase board.  Yeah yeah, you know: the trademark disappearing act that occurs when ✷ POOF! ✷  It’s  the same blinding white hue working actors & “working boys” have for teeth.

Anyway, so now? Keep that imagination crankin’! Since, upon it, there’s been an addition of verdant green text in which a new topic—an assignment, if you will—occupies that space with the insistence of CAPS LOCK.

The message? Consider this an invitation to (envision air quotes here) follow my lead &
commence whatever personal rituals permit you to complete your destination of being
:: Suited & Booted ::

Above This Text, The Look? Four Words, My Applause: I SEE NO FLAWS

As aforementioned, here’s a dangerously delectable sampling of the historical haunt’s gorgeous creatures dressed in sumptuous fineries.  However!  Before any butt-hurt gloomophiles dial whine one one for the What About Me?! What About Me!? waaahbumlance to arrive, with a stern tone, I reiterate: this is but a small cross-section of the legendary bar’s “intimate associates.” A vast array of ‘regulars’ populated Usher’s environ over the years; these pictures just happen feature some of the individuals who—for whatever various & sundry reasons—appealed to the “peculiar sensibilities & temperament” of this humble blog’s narrator.

Or, to quote Poe (yet again!): my “reserve [has] been always excessive & habitual.”

Here’s to
Cheers to

T H E  † E X C E S S I V E  †  &  †  T R A N S G R E S S I V E

Exhibit A:

Sensual, Though Inherently Too Cultivated & Chic For One Dare To Describe As ‘Slutty.’
Sophisticated, Though With A Sufficient Accumulation Of Accolades; i.e., No Need To Be A Show-Off. An Infectiously Engaging Conversationalist—Perhaps The Most Charmingly Macabre Individual I’ve Ever Met, Actually. If you’re familiar with the photography of Eric Kroll, Steve Diet Goedde, Charles Gatewood, &/or Richard Kern (et al), you’ve seen her likeness: or rather, the image this anthropology major & multi-faceted individual chose to project at that precise moment in time.

A maestro of oil, Anna Noelle Rockwell‘s paintings explore the sublime intersection where
the gorgeous & the grotesque intersect.  Just click it & check ‘em, already… (For feck’s sake!)

Exhibit B:

Gabriele: Conjurer Of Thunderstorms & Lunar Apparitions, Dark Liquidtrance Bloodscapes,
Scrying, Writhing Vampiric Chasms, Stitch-Witchery Of Glamoured Fabrications,
Brightly-Colored Tarot Playthings In A Physical Shape & Smash-Lit State Of Mind
Like No Other, Cemeterial Moonlit Gloom, & Body-Popping.

No typo, that: Black Magic & Body Popping

A individual in a wonderfully warped sense of the word, & a collector’s dream.

Exhibit C:

Though I Can’t Tell You If It’s From When He Was Or Wasn’t A ‘Prince,’
With All Certainty, I Concur With The Sentiment: Natalie? She’s Got The Look, Yes

Exhibit D:

Paris Sadonis: A Master of Multiple Instruments; A Painter, Performance Artist & Musician Known For Pushing Boundaries—Particularly With The Rotating Cast Of Collaborators in The Audio-Visual Pastiche He Both Created & Orchestrates: EXP. ‘EXPerimentation Without Limitation’ is a doctrine among the collective; ‘Catharticism Is The Key To Our Satisfaction’ is another.

» Oh, but there’s MOAR » “Beneath The Cut!” »

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