Slap on some watch gears and call me steampunk...
Is it seampunk, or not? Seems like the moment a cultural phenomenon becomes obvious enough to get its own name, somebody starts making rules about what it is and what it isn't. This is bad for a second-guessing, nail-chewing worrier trying to break into the internet jewelry crafting market. I look at my stuff and say: It's not right. It's not steampunk enough. Someone is bound to object. Somebody's bound to point a virtual finger at my pitiful postings and claim: That ain't steampunk! Try again. Or better yet: give it up. You obviously didn't go through a 'goth' phase in your misspent youth. I know you. You're the one who spent their junior year in the library, aren't you? You were in the choir, for pity sake! Where were you when the rest of us were hulking around the parking lot in rain coats and raccoon-eye mascara? You gotta tattoo anywhere on you? Thought not. You ain't steampunk.
OK, I'm not steampunk. No steampunk here. I'm hereby declaring officially that my stuff is not steampunk. No steampunk, no sir. Just 'cause it's dripping with watch gears and old, moldy rhinestones, it's not steampunk. So what if I stick watch faces wherever there's space? And gears. Oh, do I have gears. Real gears and those fake kind you get in the scrapbook aisle, too. Gears, dials, clock hands, lock washers, sprockets. I could decorate the walls with gears.
Do you know that battery-driven watches also have gears? Two or three little tiny ones smaller than sequins. I've taken apart so many watches I'm starting to dream gears! Toothy little gears, sparkling like glitter. The stars have begun go have little holes in the center around which they rotate. Every watch I see I evaluate for parts, even the one their owners are still firmly strapped into. Do alarm clocks have gears? What about old sewing machines? Washing machines? Cars?
Would you mind if I came and cleaned out the junk drawer in your kitchen? How about the bottom of your jewelry box? I just want the garbage. The little fiddly bits that have broken off. Scraps of chain. Rhinestoneless settings. Unidentified knurled things. Knobs
Steampunk is a disease. I think I've caught it.
OK, I'm not steampunk. No steampunk here. I'm hereby declaring officially that my stuff is not steampunk. No steampunk, no sir. Just 'cause it's dripping with watch gears and old, moldy rhinestones, it's not steampunk. So what if I stick watch faces wherever there's space? And gears. Oh, do I have gears. Real gears and those fake kind you get in the scrapbook aisle, too. Gears, dials, clock hands, lock washers, sprockets. I could decorate the walls with gears.
Do you know that battery-driven watches also have gears? Two or three little tiny ones smaller than sequins. I've taken apart so many watches I'm starting to dream gears! Toothy little gears, sparkling like glitter. The stars have begun go have little holes in the center around which they rotate. Every watch I see I evaluate for parts, even the one their owners are still firmly strapped into. Do alarm clocks have gears? What about old sewing machines? Washing machines? Cars?
Would you mind if I came and cleaned out the junk drawer in your kitchen? How about the bottom of your jewelry box? I just want the garbage. The little fiddly bits that have broken off. Scraps of chain. Rhinestoneless settings. Unidentified knurled things. Knobs
Steampunk is a disease. I think I've caught it.
I am after a steam punk FROG clock!!!!
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