Halloween.
A fascinating time of year where women realize their dreams of being whores and men realize their dreams of being women.
I got a taste last night.
The LandOfLA never ceases to amaze me in stifling creatively. I went to a large costume party Saturday (400 folks+), a house party.
Of the 400+, there weren’t any costumes that really stuck out as “CREATIVE GENIUS”. 100 pirates, 100 sexy cops/nurses/cats, 100 regular-clothed-people-impersonating-some-celebrity-somebody-said-they-looked-like, 100 pimps and hoes.
The usual.
I’m surprised not a single person was a political figure. Interesting. Half the folks attending probably still think Al Gore won the election.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t make a costume this year either… last year I was a Robert Palmer girl, the year before that I was a kissing booth (hand made, very ornate, love and care went into that costume), and the year before that I was a Disco Dancing Diva (so pretty much I was myself).
Creativity is dead.
You can see that in the music of today, the movies of today, the relationships of today, the lives of today.
… and imagination is on it’s last legs.
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