Where are they now? People who've gone (89)

I miss her too and her zany sense of humour!

seeking the ordinary and the extraordinary

Science, the only religion that works even if you don't believe in it.
Women wanted, preferably with their own Rohypnol.

He's alive and well, travelling and being wonderful...(well, he was alive and well months ago when I got at text, not sure where his adventurous life took him since then)...

"Uplasi me sjaj milion sveca kad se nebom popali. Gde je tome kraj? Za kog su tako dubok zdenac kopali? Zasto se sve to desava, dal covek ista resava, il' smo samo tu zbog ravnoteze medu zvezdama?"

Edited 13 Oct 08, 12:31 PM by Mona_Demarkov

That is a fantastic sentence (especially due to the mad capitals). It conveys as such just so much.

"Uplasi me sjaj milion sveca kad se nebom popali. Gde je tome kraj? Za kog su tako dubok zdenac kopali? Zasto se sve to desava, dal covek ista resava, il' smo samo tu zbog ravnoteze medu zvezdama?"

i know it's hard to believe ....

Never a truer word was said. One wonders sometimes if some actually get off their backsides to do anything except post and pose.

My wish is my demand of you.
Your whim is your command to me.
That is the elegant dance of switchcraft!
Kerepakupai merú - Waterfall of the deepest place.
The nice lady with the whip.

Edited 13 Oct 08, 1:06 PM by Caracal

He used to dress as a headmaster, and his name was John.

Night of the Cane, Saturday 8th November, Chats Palace, Homerton, E9 6DF
http://www.the-firm.org/NOTCad.htm

Annie was tall and blond and vulpine, she bought my first spring paddle, and gave me marks with it that lasted a week (my girlfriend visited on day 3). Physically she was a dream dominatrix, personally I wasn't so sure; I didn't let her touch me again for eight years.

Then one night at Café Ensemble Andy turned up alone. When I asked him where Annie was he told me she was dead. She could not have been much over forty.

I told him that if he ever wanted to go for a few beers and talk or not talk he had only to 'phone me. But he walked away, and I have not seen him since. Later I heard he was dead.

Everyone knew Don the Devil in the Eighties. He was an old man who dressed in black lycra and a hood with silver horns. His eyes and lips painted in bright red against the black greasepaint of his face.

This old devil sold raffle tickets on The Scene for the RNLI. When we did the Sex Maniacs' Ball in 1990 I employed him as a performer - I made him a proper Devil half-mask which accentuated the creases of an old face and the slightly lop-sided look he had.

Don insisted on coming down to help on the build, which was in a marquee in the middle of Oxfordshire. He worked as hard as a fit old man can in the company of the young and fitter. One night I learned that Tuppy's assistant had very meanly taken his sleeping place. I was furious and all set to demand restoration. Don would have none of it, he had found a corner of the marquee and swore he'd be just fine, even when I offered my own tent to him. I pulled up a flat to shelter him better and then left him.

He lived not only for that night but for the ball the next night and for many more after. When he did die it was after a night with a dominatrix, and they found him in bed the next morning, still and smiling. I wrote his obituary; he had 'never succeeded in growing old'.

It is unstoppable. Those friends we make on The Scene will one day leave us forever, but the greater sadness is that as the normal vanilla world generally gets the news first, sometimes in this secret realm where perhaps our friend was known most fully, that news comes too late, or not at all. The Scene's dead often simply slip from our notice. Once I knew an old doctor called Arnold with a penchant for frottage, but I have not seen him these eight years.

Reassuring a nervous venue owner one time, a colleague of mine made the unfortunate quip 'We bury our own dead'. The saddest thing about living in the twilight is that all too often we cannot. Perhaps it is for this reason above others that we must oppose all attempts to marginalise us, and give those very good friends we make when we celebrate our wonderful sexuality, the chance to honour us at the very end.

Night of the Cane, Saturday 8th November, Chats Palace, Homerton, E9 6DF
http://www.the-firm.org/NOTCad.htm

Please note carefully. You aren't allowed to "miss" anyone who seems to have disappeared, because this is stalking. A lot of these people have probably been kidnapped, but you aren't allowed to wonder what's happened to any of them in case they've just retired from the scene, or whatever. I don't think anyone ever retires from the Fetish scene, they just die, move to a different area or get kidnapped. I was collecting lots of newspapers in 2003 and 2004, then some time after that I stopped reading newspapers otherwise I'd have been buried by them because I couldn't bear to throw them away. Recently, I've been going through the 2003 newspapers, reading them and cutting out any articles I thought were interesting. One of these articles was from The Daily Star, June 12, 2003, with the headline " 'HANNIBAL' KEPT 5 SEX SLAVES IN THIS DUNGEON". This story took place over a 15 year period in Dewitt, near Syracuse, New York state. The culprit, John Jamelske, 68, was due to be sentenced the following month, but obviously there could be other people doing this, either inspired by his story or the film "Silence of the Lambs". Other possibilities include alien abduction, or touching a spectrox nest, which I was having a conversation about with Ishmael at The Smuggler's Tavern, also in 2003. I must admit I can't help wondering whatever happened to Shirley, who had blonde frizzy hair, a northern accent, sometimes wore a Maid's outfit, and used to go to Fantastic! and Torture Garden, but I wouldn't dare to ask if anyone knew what happened to her otherwise I'd be accused of stalking her or just asking people what happened to her to put them off the scent when I actually kidnapped her years ago and have been holding her prisoner ever since then, in spite of moving 5 times, including being illegally evicted, living in a caravan and staying in B&B where I started collecting these newspapers. I was able to do this by using a new version of the Tissue Compression Eliminator which doesn't kill people, it just shrinks them.

Edited 13 Oct 08, 2:23 PM by TVPtvp