April, 22. 1999

IT wrote "Radio Noir", the gothic-parody radio script that I have the honor of presenting to you on this website. He is a great writer and truly witty, inspired person...who just *happens* to be goth. He sent this to me today.

In his own words: "I spent most of yesterday performing the TRUE gothic response to stress and suffering: I stayed up all night listening to albums and writing weepy poetry. Included in this letter are two poems... consider them my contribution to the Gothic rants. These are actually more mournful than defiant, but I think defiance will be called upon soon enough.
In goth we trust,

It


Worry and Tomorrow

I.

Of course, the day after Littleton
it rains in DC--

But of course
there's really no "of course" about it

Determined to catch a cold I stand out
at the bus stop

And smoke clove
cigarettes one by one by one

Determined to feel every breath today
rasping, clotted, and wrong


II.

Did this rain, now ruining my cigarettes,
blow in from the west?

Will it move east
and sleep in the ocean?

Did this rain, now ruining me,
blow in from the east?

Will it move west
and climb over the mountains?

And if it has enough strength to climb over them
will it find anybody there?

I have lived long enough to see this rain
so like and unlike others

But the rain is no longer unusual
just unpredictable


Getting Alice to Smile Weakly


Alice's eyes are shining black rings
     from lack of sleep

She and I have been in the booth all night
     writing, reading, recording, broadcasting our guts

I tell her about her eyes while we stand outside the studio
     and smoke cloves in an unexpected
          but doesn't-it-just-figure rain

She tells me that I have them, too

I tell Alice that if she had smiled weakly while she said that
     she would have dropped her clove
and then she'd be out thirty cents

I point out to Alice that if she keeps those rings
     she'll save herself a fortune in eyeliner
I laugh to Alice that with her skin and those eyes
     people will mistake her for a mime standing on this corner
I whisper to Alice in a stage whisper that isn't a whisper at all
     that I just saw a passing raccoon swooning over her
I suggest to Alice that most people
     take their boxing gloves off before weeping into their hands
I tell Alice that I love her
     and because I love her nothing's her fault
And I ask her can she please get some sleep now?

And Alice says
     as long as she doesn't have to sleep with me
          she'll get some sleep
               and she's a pro

She never drops her clove


"Worry and Tomorrow" and "Getting Alice to Smile Weakly" © 1999 by Ian Ton.