September 4th, 2025
Last night, Mexican Martin sent me a weirdly cropped image, saying that somebody was sharing private photos of me online ...
again
.
Though the snippet he had sent was clearly of my face (literally
just
the face), it looked so strangely that my first thought was that this was either A.I.-generated ... or that whoever was sharing this photo had distorted it by processing it through some face-altering app, because not only did it look very unflattering, it just looked "wrong".
I had never even seen this picture before, so I assumed it was all made-up bullshit.
However, after some back and forth with whoever he was talking to, Martin eventually forwarded the
unedited
version of this photo to me, and though I had indeed never seen it before (or if I did, I have no memory of this whatsoever), I instantly knew where and when this picture had been taken:
Edinburgh, January 1st, 1998
... at some point after midnight ...
in a club called "The Mission".
Actually, as far as the year goes, I am a little uncertain, because for decades I was under the impression that my visit to Scotland had happened over
Hogmanay
of 1998/99. But when I dug up the audio cassette that I had recorded in the flat where my friend had been staying, I found that the year 1997 written on it. So, I guess, I have misremembered it for all those years.
As far as memory goes, mine is very fuzzy, and I only remember bits and pieces of that trip. Actually, I
generally
only remember bits and pieces of
anything
, if I remember things at all. So...
at
The Scotland visit was a bit of a "spontaneous" thing ... arranged by a friend, who I had met in London for the first time earlier that year (again, take this date with a grain of salt). She had written to me some time before that about SOPOR maybe composing the music for a future dance-production of hers, and when I had the chance to go to London for a few days, we decided to meet.
We instantly got along.
Later that year she was going to visit friends of hers in Edinburgh and suggested that I should come, too. The Hogmanay celebration is a huge affair in Edinburgh (not that I had any clue), so the only room I could afford turned out to be a hole with a bed, a small sink, a portable black & white TV, and a slit in the wall for a window that could not be opened. It was an awfully
miserable
place. Sadly, it matched the way I was feeling.
I don't remember the name of the hotel, but I do remember taking the bus from the airport and then getting off at Haymarket. I had to walk to the next street on the left, and then the hotel was right there on the left side, up a few stairs. Actually, that's only where the reception was. My room turned out to be in the building on the other side of the street.
I just looked it up on google street view. Today it's called the Piries Hotel. I wonder, if it's any better now.
Actually, this is
not
the original photo. I cannot find it anymore, so I must have thrown it away in a mood. For the sake of this blog-entry, I downloaded the above picture from
here
, and then edited it to more or less match what mine had looked like. Just imagine nasty snowflakes in the air, blindingly reflecting the camera's flashlight and landing on the lens. Then it's a nearly perfect twin.
at
I don't really have a story to tell, because my memory of this vacation only consists of fragments, flashes of images and pieces of conversations. Nothing coherent.
The only thing I do remember is the
all-consuming brutal darkness of depression
.
At one point I couldn't even leave the bed and had to spend the entire day in that room. It was bad.
I don't like going down memory lane, because it's a dark place and remembering means
re-living
it, and that's not a good thing. In fact, it was one of the subjects my friend and I were talking about at some point during our walk(s) through the city. Back then I didn't really understand it. It's only
now
that I have days when I am
distracted
enough to actually feel OK, that I understand why some people choose to not remember their past and/or prefer to generally stay away from certain "things" (in the widest sense of the word).
But this doesn't make for an enjoyable blog-entry, so let me try and concentrate on the nice parts...
at
Oh, I have one:
One day we went to the "
g
a
y
&
l
e
s
b
i
a
n
information centre
". At least that's how it was introduced to me. It was a bookstore with a cafe/bar connected to it, somewhere north of the city centre, downhill. I tried to find it online, but it doesn't seem to exist anymore. Too bad. It was nice. Anyway, we stopped there for a cup of tea (and possibly some chocolate cake). We sat by the window, overlooking a small garden behind the building...
...when suddenly we noticed an
obvious change
in the music that was playing in the background. At first we thought that it was just a
coincidence
that two tracks had been playing in a row that were
not
annoying radio garbage. I think it was VISAGE and DEPECHE MODE. But when those were followed by THE CURE, THE SISTERS and NEUBAUTEN, it became clear that they had actually
changed the tape
especially
for us "goths"
.
It makes me cry, thinking of this now. It was such a lovely gesture.
at
What else?
Hmm, ARTHUR's SEAT was kind of nice. It's a big rock, from where you can overlook the city. The amusing thing is that when you turn around and look the other way, you might imagine that you are somewhere in the Scottish highlands. At least that's what I was thinking at the time.
Speaking of which, we watched BRAVEHEART on DVD. It was amusing to see it with Scottish people, who threw in the occasional criticism, pointed out historic inaccuracies, wrong accents, and the fact that the religious nutcase Mel Gibson has small nipples. It was funny.
They also showed me a copy of Mick Mercer's
goth
book, which had a full-page photo of Auntie Va right at the beginning. In retrospect, however, I am wondering if maybe they had put the photo in there to play a joke on me, because no-one else has ever mentioned this book/photo to me since. -- It doesn't matter, though, because the book also featured someone, who had written to me before, and to whom I then decided to reply to. Good thing I did, because we became friends soon after. (Sadly, she died a few years ago.)
at
OK, what else?
Oh, yes ... parts of my memories are in
sepia
, while others are in
black & white ...
because of the photos that were given to me. I cannot find them anymore, though. I must have thrown them away. Well, except for two of them.
One day we took a car-trip to look at castles. I don't remember where we were going. I don't even think that I was aware of where we were going to back then either. As it is with depression, I was only "half there" most of the time. All I remember is five people sitting in a red car, driving around on a rainy, foggy day ... and the occasional bits of conversation. At one point we were listening to the mixtape I had recorded, and everyone was criticising most of my selection. Ha! ;)
One of my
black & white memories
is visiting
KILCHURN CASTLE
at Loch Awe. For some reason I did not forget that name. It was about 4:00 P.M. when we stood in front of the ruin. I remember this, because it had just started to snow, and my friend was pointing out how "ridiculously early" (quote) it was getting dark in Scotland...
Back in the day, I liked going through other people's music-collection, whenever the opportunity presented itself ... and then
judge
them according to what I found. -- As one does, naturally. ;)
I remember sitting on the livingroom floor of said flat, skipping through their CDs, listening to songs for maybe 2-3 seconds and instantly declaring most of it to be crap. Ha! -- I wanted to record a mixtape, so I would have something (new-ish) to listen to on my flight home, and I remember having a difficult time finding something that I didn't instantly hate.
I listened to the tape this morning, because (except for three songs) I had
no memory
of what I ended up putting on it, as I couldn't be bothered at the time to write down the tracks. I merely cut out a photo from some magazine to make this boring cassette cover.
I'll put the tracklist at the end of this blog-entry.
(For everyone's amusement.)
at
It was very muddy, and there was sheep-shit everywhere. Lots of it.
In my memory, we had arrived from somewhere to the right side of this dirt-road leading to the castle, after having crossed a single railway track and walking through a flock of sheep. The ruin itself was closed (apparently, it's only open for visitors during the summer months, says the internet), so we just walked around it.
To the left of the castle, there is a short landing stage for small boats. I remember standing on it, looking at the dark, very still surface of the lake ... and having this (almost) OVERWHELMING URGE to take my clothes off, step into the water, and disappear into the cold depth.
I so clearly remember this feeling.
I downloaded this satellite image to compare it to my memory. Luckily, it matches up. Well, except that I had no idea that the ruins are located on a peninsular. I wasn't aware that there was water to the right (
above
in the satellite photo) of the dirt road as well. Interesting.
at
Hmm, that's it, though ... as far as positive/interesting things go. I guess, I will have to circle back to the initial point of this pointless-as-usual blog-entry:
OK, so ... Hogmanay is a BIG celebration in Edinburgh. I later learned that it is (or at least
was
, dunno) one of those fireworks/affairs that the news always showed footage of on TV, whenever they reported on New Year's celebrations around the world. It's
that
famous. -- Naturally, though, I had no idea about any of this. I hate fireworks.
But Hogmanay in Edinburgh is not just fireworks. The other big thing is the "torch parade", which may or may not end in a huge bonfire. I don't remember. It's a "pagan - Viking - whatever" thing. I couldn't care less, though. I still don't.
Instead, we spent MIDNIGHT alone on a graveyard...
This is my other
black & white memory
of Scotland. We lit a candle for atmosphere. When you know it's there, you can sort of see it next to my umbrella. Flashlights ruin everything. -- To this day, I still wear that same wintercoat. I guess, it wasn't a phase...
at
At some point after the fireworks we headed to the club. I don't know what time it was, but I
seem
to remember that my friend said we had to be there before 1:00 A.M. or else we couldn't get in anymore.
The streets were awfully crowded. Apparently, the year before it was so bad that it got out of control, so this time around they blocked off parts of the city, and you could only access the "party zone", if you wore one of those hideous, orange/yellow wrist-straps, which were only available in limited quantities.
On the way to the club, people left and right were wishing a "Happy New Year", to which I only replied with "Death to the World" (and
meaning it
), until my friend told me to stop.
Interestingly, though ... even though people were drunk, not a single person on our way to the club was rude to me (or worse). NOT ONE. That definitely was a first.
at
OK, so ... on to that photo. Here it is:
at
Yes, I look like shit. We know. Moving on...
I don't know who took that photo, and I don't know who these people are. However, I
think
the girl on the left is who my friend was staying with. I don't remember the face (I never do), but I do remember the extensions.
(If it is who I
think
it is, then I do remember her name as well. I still have their old address and phone-number in my old address book. I know, because I checked earlier today).
;)
I have no idea, who the girl next to her is, though, but I
think
she might be a friend of hers. Again, I don't remember the face, but I
seem
to remember her man teasing up her hair and suggesting what she should wear that night.
If that is true, then I had actually been to their flat earlier that day, where I was shown that Mick Mercer book (and was invited to dinner).
I have absolutely
no idea
who the person in white is. But I do remember him asking me all kinds of questions, and I suspect that his friend took the photo. I think the person in the white shirt even gave me that can of coke. Somebody asked me, if I wanted something to drink, but since I don't drink alcohol, they gave me a coke ... even though I don't drink soda either.
The "funny" thing is, I do remember the moment this photo was taken. I had
just taken a sip
of that coke, when suddenly there was a flash ... and I was thinking how rude that was, and that sooner or later this photo would probably come back to embarrass me. -- Well, here it is now. Only took, what ... 25+ years? That's kind of funny, too.
at