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The Northern Irish goth scene is to be lamented. They won't get up and dance unless they are so familiar with a song as to be able to call it overplayed. I was the only person dancing to Rome Burns and Screaming Banshee Aircrew, and it took my dragging people up to dance to get anyone for Uninvited Guest.
Gaaahhhh! Why don't they dance? Why do they sit in their little cliques and refuse to talk and stare at newcomers and... and...
I love the people, I really do, they're great. But the scene as a whole is a nasty little nest.
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The noblest sentiment I have encountered and the most passionate political statement to stir my heart both belong to a fictional character. Why do we have no politicians as pure in their intent and determinedly joyous in their outlook as Arkady Bogdanov of Red Mars?
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