Minor Blues

photo: Neely Johnson

There you are

In your usual jet black,

hunched-over back,

and haunting stare,

waiting for the next one to                   

test your approval.

Your eyes robotically scan every inch of my face

searching for that glint of desperation.

You leave me vulnerable at the threshold,

clueless to your thoughts:

sometimes you’re lovin’ me-

other times I’m turned down at my childish request.

For this isn’t a game adults play.

So I haven’t been completely honest,

Who is at first sight?

Either way, you’ll never know.

Just let me have a little fun ‘cause

my eyes are painted black

and I parted my hair on the side this time –

even my red pumps boost me up an inch.

All so I can fit the image of what you wanna see.

I won’t forget you

As you’ll forget me.

Your mark on my hand will stain for days:

A constant reminder

Telling myself to find another

but the night feels right when you nod towards me.

I could keep coming back for more:

An intoxicating partnership between you and I.

So I’ll be waiting on the line,

hoping I become one of your favorites.

Until the Day I no longer need your judgment,

and laugh at my anxiety

Once my bare eyes reach yours.

Fall Out of the Wackness: A night out at Richmond's (private!) dance club

High energy industrial-house music is strobe-lighting along Fall Out's black, graffiti-filled walls. The bass-booming soundtrack is accompanied with underground avant-garde fashion that clash beautifully with the conventional world outside.


At first glance the atmosphere appears intimidating with the coolness of the crowd (I.e. No bumping and grinding, dancing solo is encouraged) but once the music gets pumping, its easy to see that this is just another club- but with a leather studded twist. From Muse, to Manson, to Hansel and Gretel, to Lady Gaga - the music is just as experimental as the pseudo-Alexander McQueen-style of the patrons.


Fall Out's Leather and Lace theme night prompted Gothic Lolitas to shamelessly strut their ghoulish glamour on the dance floor - Morticia Addams-inspired corsets, kohl-soaked eyes, and attitudes blaring louder than the music - this place is the antithesis of your generic club where the music and patrons promote experimental artistry rather than mass produced digitized droning.


Just remember to don some industrial strength kicks for all that dancing - no pansy shoes allowed in here -


Check out Fall Out's Website for their Weekly Shindigs and Membership Info:

Fall Out Club RVA

Funhouse Dysmorphia

photo: Neely Johnson

all day long I'm lookin' at me
all day long I'm lookin' in the mirror.
one of these days i'm gonna smash it to pieces
one of these days i'm gonna finally see. 

Anti-Wonderland

photo: Neely Johnson

          Gears grind, drones buzz, and stale music chirps through fuzzy speakers as fluorescent bulbs beam brightly, cultivating the concrete bubble and it's creatures:
The wolf, who dresses in baggy sheep’s clothing while his fangs glisten at every plastic transaction and gleam insatiably for women.The sole-less nymph sneakily flutters to feed prey right into the baggin’ saggin’ wolf’s smacking teeth. Beware of her enchanting visage.
There are the two-headed sirens- their beautifully painted faces deceive every bare eye- for their sharp tongues and sweet gazes mask their expired kindness.

       And then there is the lioness – her full mane and towering strut shake the Machine until the wolf’s sheep costume crumples lifelessly, the nymph’s soles glued to the ground, and the  sirens’ heads shrivel squeamishly.

The clickity clack chatter of nonsense wilt away, while the brightly colored wallpaper peel, revealing comatose cracked plaster. The imposters are out of costume as the cracked whip leaves them raw in form. The masks are off - all fooling one to think that life is captured in the Machine.

One step outside – at the mercy of reality – where all of the glitz melts away, only to have them scramble back to the wool blanket of fluorescent bulbs and painted smiles.

May those gears forever grind.