0 comment Monday, September 1, 2014 | admin
The party tomorrow is the first one I've held here this year, and the first one I've held just for me and friends in more years than I can count. I haven't really felt like I've had the energy or will to entertain and most of my friends are going through equally difficult times. Some really awful stuff has been happening in everyone's lives at the moment and the party was therefore in jeopardy as people didn't want to come and "ruin the vibe". I've had to reassure people that this isn't a socialite soiree; it's for all us Languished folks to have a chance to have a breather without wearing the "I'm Fine" mask and reciting the "I'll Get By" speech which we usually do to other people. I will not be horrified if someone breaks down in tears, I will not sniff in disdain when people unwrap their special-diet treats they had to bring as it's the only thing they can digest. I will not make not-so-veiled comments are someone falling asleep on the daybed or on my own sheets if they find sitting and watching a video too emotionally daunting (and sometimes, that's a lot of work. I know how it is.) And I trust that they won't go round expecting my house to be neat as a pin and everything organised and perfect; they won't whisper at the fact I'm wearing mismatched woollen socks beneath my velvet and lace, and snicker as I hobble about and occasionally have to stop for breath in between hostess bustling, or knock over the lemonade with my super wide black woman's ass.
We're dolling up (I've got dreadfalls to put in tonight which usually takes about five hours to do, if that's any indication!) and we're going to be arming ourselves with tea and sympathy for all the trials and tribs we've been dealing with over the past few weeks. And even though I've had a rough go, I will be the first to admit that it's nothing compared to what a lot of my mates are going through, so this is my way of bolstering everyone, trying to give them a few hours' respite and strength. I've washed my sheets and I'm spraying them with lavender and chamomile essential oils for anyone who really can't keep their eyes open and need a powernap. I'm bringing down velvets and silk pillows for people to stretch out on. I will be preparing some paper for everyone to decorate with watercolour in commemoration (and this is an important ritual to me as one dear friend coming is dying of cancer; I want someone made by her hand in my house.)
And of course, true to my way of doing things, I am making and ordering Entirely Too Much Food. Note the insane amount of butter for the legion of biscuits I'm baking today to decorate tomorrow. And I have two cakes coming. And more biscuits. And two quiches. And about six different tea pots with 20 different offerings of tea. And coffee. My friends know by now to expect me to do things so big that they're probably going to need to undo the lacing on their corsets about halfway through. And of course with all this stuff I make there's also friends who won't be able to eat any of it unless it's organic, or wheat-free, or without e-numbers, so I've ordered things they CAN have. What doesn't get eaten will go home with friends or will be put into the freezer for tea-for-two treats.
And if tears get shed, if someone "loses" it or the "I'm Fine" mask slips, then they are among company; I was the one who suggested the terminal friend see a doctor when she first started feeling tired. Friend who lost her favourite dog can be comforted by the "animal whisperer" friend. We can all comfort the person who is dealing with the first death in his family. We're goths, after all - death is not foreign to us. No trying to put the brave face on as there's no expectations - and then, when that's done, more tea, more chocolate, smiles and jokes through tears and I daresay everyone will feel better for it. I have no expectations other than everyone comes and breathes in, then breathes out and relaxes with my Halloween cats, some tea and the video Coraline or Brothers Grimm in the background.
We're dolling up (I've got dreadfalls to put in tonight which usually takes about five hours to do, if that's any indication!) and we're going to be arming ourselves with tea and sympathy for all the trials and tribs we've been dealing with over the past few weeks. And even though I've had a rough go, I will be the first to admit that it's nothing compared to what a lot of my mates are going through, so this is my way of bolstering everyone, trying to give them a few hours' respite and strength. I've washed my sheets and I'm spraying them with lavender and chamomile essential oils for anyone who really can't keep their eyes open and need a powernap. I'm bringing down velvets and silk pillows for people to stretch out on. I will be preparing some paper for everyone to decorate with watercolour in commemoration (and this is an important ritual to me as one dear friend coming is dying of cancer; I want someone made by her hand in my house.)
And of course, true to my way of doing things, I am making and ordering Entirely Too Much Food. Note the insane amount of butter for the legion of biscuits I'm baking today to decorate tomorrow. And I have two cakes coming. And more biscuits. And two quiches. And about six different tea pots with 20 different offerings of tea. And coffee. My friends know by now to expect me to do things so big that they're probably going to need to undo the lacing on their corsets about halfway through. And of course with all this stuff I make there's also friends who won't be able to eat any of it unless it's organic, or wheat-free, or without e-numbers, so I've ordered things they CAN have. What doesn't get eaten will go home with friends or will be put into the freezer for tea-for-two treats.
And if tears get shed, if someone "loses" it or the "I'm Fine" mask slips, then they are among company; I was the one who suggested the terminal friend see a doctor when she first started feeling tired. Friend who lost her favourite dog can be comforted by the "animal whisperer" friend. We can all comfort the person who is dealing with the first death in his family. We're goths, after all - death is not foreign to us. No trying to put the brave face on as there's no expectations - and then, when that's done, more tea, more chocolate, smiles and jokes through tears and I daresay everyone will feel better for it. I have no expectations other than everyone comes and breathes in, then breathes out and relaxes with my Halloween cats, some tea and the video Coraline or Brothers Grimm in the background.