Confessions of a Closet Satyr
"...the lifestyle really came together when, after a Halloween Party, I discovered the lower half of a Gorilla Suit ditched in my shower. After a short period of being perturbed (What was the circumstances behind their being doffed there? I mean, I don't recall anyone Simianly-Garbed--at least above the waistband--leaving without their hairy pants on) I recalled my childhood fascination with the followers of Pan and Dionysus and decided not to look a Gift Horse (Gift Goat?) in the Maw, y'know? Okay, sure, it's a bit of a leap betwixt Gorillas and Goat-Boys (especially in the extremitites department), but with a lil' tailoring (I knew that Home Ec. course would pay off someday) I totally converted the Monkey-esque feet attached to the Gorilla Pants into Cloven-looking tootsies. I've got to admit, the first time I tried 'em on (shirtless, naturally, to get the right Satyrian Look), I was pretty damn impressed with how they turned out. I added some faux-horns to my forehead (moistened gumdrops affixed with a lil' saliva) and an appropriate looking Wine Goblet and--VOILA--I'm a Satyr.
The real problem that arose shortly thereafter was that I had no where to go and flaunt my new persona (well, at least until next year's Halloween Party) and I was becoming more and more obsessed with the outfit. Whenever I wore them I felt like this...THIS was the Real Me. Everyday I'd get home from work, immediately change into them, and spend the rest of the evening (and the entirety of my weekends) clip-clopping around my rambler as Mister Satyr.
The interior of my home I redid with Woodland-themed wallpaper so to have the proper environment for my Satyrly Escapades; which, to be honest, are just my regular day-to-day activities...watching television, dining, and, especially, grooving out to my Billy Joel records (Glass Houses really touches me in a special Grecian Way whilst in my goat-leggings).
I'd try to broach the subject of Satyrs when not at home but, more times than not, people thought I was referencing the Marquis de Sade (for some damn reason, curse their miseducation and faulty hearing) and, even though some might think it's Odd that I garner so much pleasure from dressing up as a Mythological Figure, I've never been a fan of Sadism (although, admittedly, I was once aroused after being pelted with an apple...although I wish now, in hindsight, that it had been a grape...but that's another story for another time...heh...my own lil' Myth) and I would change the subject to something else entirely.
Which is why I've yet to come out of the closet about my Satyrism..."
T
"...the lifestyle really came together when, after a Halloween Party, I discovered the lower half of a Gorilla Suit ditched in my shower. After a short period of being perturbed (What was the circumstances behind their being doffed there? I mean, I don't recall anyone Simianly-Garbed--at least above the waistband--leaving without their hairy pants on) I recalled my childhood fascination with the followers of Pan and Dionysus and decided not to look a Gift Horse (Gift Goat?) in the Maw, y'know? Okay, sure, it's a bit of a leap betwixt Gorillas and Goat-Boys (especially in the extremitites department), but with a lil' tailoring (I knew that Home Ec. course would pay off someday) I totally converted the Monkey-esque feet attached to the Gorilla Pants into Cloven-looking tootsies. I've got to admit, the first time I tried 'em on (shirtless, naturally, to get the right Satyrian Look), I was pretty damn impressed with how they turned out. I added some faux-horns to my forehead (moistened gumdrops affixed with a lil' saliva) and an appropriate looking Wine Goblet and--VOILA--I'm a Satyr.
The real problem that arose shortly thereafter was that I had no where to go and flaunt my new persona (well, at least until next year's Halloween Party) and I was becoming more and more obsessed with the outfit. Whenever I wore them I felt like this...THIS was the Real Me. Everyday I'd get home from work, immediately change into them, and spend the rest of the evening (and the entirety of my weekends) clip-clopping around my rambler as Mister Satyr.
The interior of my home I redid with Woodland-themed wallpaper so to have the proper environment for my Satyrly Escapades; which, to be honest, are just my regular day-to-day activities...watching television, dining, and, especially, grooving out to my Billy Joel records (Glass Houses really touches me in a special Grecian Way whilst in my goat-leggings).
I'd try to broach the subject of Satyrs when not at home but, more times than not, people thought I was referencing the Marquis de Sade (for some damn reason, curse their miseducation and faulty hearing) and, even though some might think it's Odd that I garner so much pleasure from dressing up as a Mythological Figure, I've never been a fan of Sadism (although, admittedly, I was once aroused after being pelted with an apple...although I wish now, in hindsight, that it had been a grape...but that's another story for another time...heh...my own lil' Myth) and I would change the subject to something else entirely.
Which is why I've yet to come out of the closet about my Satyrism..."
T
posted by Tony at 5:01 PM
1 Comments:
You, sir, are the living end.
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