Welcome to the conclusion of my six-part series, “Embracing My Inner Goth.” You can find the first five installments via the links below. Remember, it’s better to read them all in order, so you’ll understand the references to the earlier posts in subsequent sections. And for those of you who’ve been so patient on this journey with me, my deepest thanks.
Part VI: The New Black
Apparently decrepitude is the new black.
What happened to Ken Dracula can happen to anyone or anything, I suppose. He lost his partner and never recovered himself. Just like his Annie.
I remember going to a local large bookstore in Houston back when we still had more than the smattering of Barnes & Nobles and a few delightful but clinging independent stores left. It was the Alabama Bookstop, an iconic place before B&N had bought it: a bookstore carved from an old movie theater that had one screen, a balcony, and art deco murals on the walls. It was a fabulous bookstore in its day, and I performed many poetry readings and at least Continue reading “Embracing My Inner Goth (part 6)”