¨¨¨°º the adventures of choklit chanteuse º°¨¨¨



2.06.2008

Confessions of a Small-Town Costume Whore

Last night was Mardi Gras. Stache called to let me know there would be carousing and parading in the downtown area close to our house. Not being one to miss any opportunity for dress-up and debauchery, I rushed home from work, yanked out the tutu, a corset, and some feathery scarlet accoutrements - a mask and neck-ruff - and ventured out to joint the revelers.

Alas, by the time I arrived, the brass band had disappeared into a deserted club with a high cover charge, and the remaining rastabouts had whittled down to six dedicated souls in wigs, masks and frock-coats... Is it possible to carouse with a crowd of six?

         

We did our best, tramping about from bar to bar, throwing beads and encouraging the passers-by to show us their... bits. We nearly got into a fist-fight with two brazen teenage boys drunk on hormones. Though clearly desperate for some action, they ultimately were unable to bring themselves to hit people wearing tri-corn hats, and the fight fizzled. The evening ended in a brew-pub, where we got some confused stares at first but the local color quickly went back to gazing into their beers.

Ah, for the crowds and chaos of the city. If we were in New Orleans, San Francisco, New York... we would be joined by thousands of other freaks like us, seizing the opportunity to dress in ridiculous outfits and run through the streets with strangers, basking in that heady feeling that only comes with marauding in a public mob with a mask on.


         

But the night was not without reward - three members of our merry band were young souls we met for the first time last night, adrift and lonely in the suburban sea that is our hometown, and they were thrilled to find us, and to hear that indeed, there's a small but active community of Burners, freaks, costume-whores, musicians and artists in our hamlet, hidden amidst the ranch homes and strip malls...

And to these young ones I said, welcome home.

1 comment:

Stache M. Dandy said...

Aha! I was the first to comment!

Despite my shared wish for the days of yore and the heady crowds of urban freaks and revelers we used to play with, I always come back to the creative joys of making our own fun times.

There's a certain discipline and hard work that goes into thinking for oneself in a world crowded by pre-fab Fun(tm). When the homespun revelry begins though, that's a party like no other as friends come together to plough a new field amidst the age old spirits of craft, wit, and joy of creation.

I say upon the highest peak: People! Go forth and rabble rouse in mirth and clad in finery among your neighbors to shock this world from its muddle of hollow-eyed TV stares and mall-bound moribundity! GO!