Scene {Indie & Emo} | Ian & Evan Rose (pseudoelitism) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-07-24 23:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | emo, horror |
Who: Emo and Horror
What: "Conversations" and brain-picking.
When: Friday night.
Where: The Room
Rating: TBD?
What did a kid do on a Friday night when he and his brother weren't speaking to each other again (despite each other's best attempts at conversation) and he had absolutely no one to hang out with who would actually get the fact that he was fucking miserable at the moment? Movies, of course. Alone. There was no shame in going to a movie alone. You didn't have to buy anyone else soda or those funny gummy candies shaped like people and you could put your elbows on both arm-rests. For someone as self-absorbed as Emo was, it was the perfect situation.
And he'd heard from a reliable source that some little theater was showing Nightmare on Elm Street movies all weekend. That was an experience he couldn't miss. Hours of campy horror, bad special effect and buckets of blood. Not to mention Robert Englund was one fierce guy. So that's where Emo found himself; in a dark theater listening to people's girlfriends squeal and giggle and cling to the men they were there with. Fear was a powerful aphrodisiac and the young god couldn't help but think with a plastered-on sneer of disdain that every one of them was probably going to get laid when they god home. They should sell condoms with the tickets.
But once the movie got really started, he was lost in the gore - leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his fingers steepled, thumbs at the side of his jaw and first and middle fingers pressed over his lips. Enthralled. And by the end of it we was feeling the relaxed high of an adrenaline rush. But just because the movie was over didn't mean he was ready to go home yet.
Emo wandered through the lobby and into the room where a bunch of stuff was stored on shelves and in cases - old stuff: posters and props and just strange things. He and his brother went to House on the Rock once and there was a room there that reminded him of this one. But there was a creepy clown there and thankfully he didn't see any creepy clown here. His fascination with everything continued as he wandered, slowly, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, sleeves of his thin hoodie pushed up to the elbow to reveal fully tattooed arms and his boots making a soft thud as he more leaned heel-to-toe instead of properly walked. He was enjoying his time, didn't want to rush it.