As I start work on my paper about EmilyDickinson's Puritan background and her links to the heritage of thecaptivity narrative through her masochistic obsession with prolongedpain, I have been running into Gothic imagery of a macabre all day. 

414

'Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,
That nearer, every Day,
Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel
Until the Agony

Toyed coolly with the final inch
Of your delirious Hem—
And you dropt, lost,
When something broke—
And let you from a Dream—

As if a Goblin with a Gauge—
Kept measuring the Hours—
Until you felt your Second
Weigh, helpless, in his Paws—

And not a Sinew—stirred—could help,
And sense was setting numb—
When God—remembered—and the Fiend
Let go, then, Overcome—

As if your Sentence stood—pronounced—
And you were frozen led
From Dungeon's luxury of Doubt
To Gibbets, and the Dead—

And when the Film had stitched your eyes
A Creature gasped "Reprieve"!
Which Anguish was the utterest—then—
To perish, or to live?






Then, I ran into the new Manson "If I Was Your Vampire."  I have never been a big fan, but I have always admired his sound.

Then I read this Story.

And new Interpol songs, though they are live and the audio is a little shitty.

Tags: goth, music, work
Current Location: C-Dale, IL
Mood: hungry
Soundtrack: Interpol - Turn on the bright Lights