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SALON/SALOON |
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Based on the guest contributions to Gothic.Net Party 1.0 (the "beta" party), Darren (ever the cutting-edge cyber-geek) composed an "evite" mailed via internet to a host of potential victims, as he had with the first party. What began as gag "requirements" evolved into a list of party no-nos, the first two being incorporated into the evite for 1.1. They were:
At the initial party, Darren handed out several disposable cameras. Two of them vanished. The rest were overloaded with shots of the ceiling, the edges of people's heads, and close-ups of Coke cans on the coffee table.
Conclusion: Darren, having taken advantage of his own party, was generally too inebriated, flying on acid, or stoned on stinkweed to be a reliable photographer … and so was anyone else clutching a camera. (NB: Darren has since acquired a digital camera and improved his documentarian skills.) Observation: We had so much leftover Japanese beer that a follow-up was virtually mandated. A lot of the usual suspects returned for the second party, which was whacked together in record time during one of Darren's frequent Los Angeles jaunts, and took place on January 19th, 2002. Now we must make mention of Sean Decker (frontman for ) and his lovely wife Angie, aka Angel. They showed up earlier when Angel's hair was still bright red. They have adorned most of the parties since, and got photographed … better, later.
Miss Blue and her rarely-glimpsed guy-thing Gabriel also slid on by. And Miss Blue and Sean D. know the equally decorative Bullet and Gillian, and so on, and they know Sue Wood, and so on, and so on …
As did Jack and Bridget from so you can get a general idea of what they look like. (Thanks again for the "Death in a Bottle," Thom.)
But the leftover cameras were put to better use, especially since Lucifer Dave brought more zombie dancer chicks who had few qualms about flashing a ready lens.
This was the memorable occasion during which we were besieged by an astonishingly polite group of seven or eight strangers. They all introduced themselves and spoke softly. We realized we had won the Hollywood Hills Party Lottery that night. See, sometimes, groups of youngsters cruise the hills seeking parties, and there were a lot of parties in Beachwood Canyon that weekend. When the party is highballing along nicely on its own, such tow-headed minors seek to snake in sidewise and keep a low profile, because the fringes of parties are a great place for underage pasty-boys and their clueless girl-things to drink liquor for free, in defiance of the laws of the great state of California. When everybody started comparing notes, it turned out that nobody at the party knew them. Ah, flaming youth. But it must be emphasized that they were completely agreeable, did not misbehave, and went to bed when their elders told them to.
The Ides of March Blowout :: 15 March 2002Nearly 90 people. Whoo, gawd.
This was the first party for which we actually had a Guest of Honor — Douglas Winter, who was in town to sign his debut novel, Run. Unfortunately, we only got the back of his head. Shortly after this party, Doug experienced eye trauma similar to my own extreme corneal damage, which you can read about elsewhere. (Video Watchdog editor Tim Lucas made fun of us in issue #89, but he was entitled, having fucked up his own eye, as well.)
Tango Queen and Egyptomaniac also sortied down from San Francisco to add another touch of sheer elegance to the proceedings, while managing to completely duck the drunken shutterbugs. But here she is, anyway. (Shortly after this party Rainy did DJS the great service of accepting an award on his behalf in Chicago during the World Horror Convention. The theory was that more people would pay attention to Rain behind the podium, anyway, and it seems to have worked just swell.)
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