I’m a heavy red wine maniac!

Well hellll, it’s been a lot of years since I wrote a wine review.

What better way to restart it than this ultra beauty, a 10 year old Carinena!


So a WHOLE LOAD OF LIFE has happened since I last wrote in this blog, I won’t go into details here but I do have a sister blog to deal with that.

My first reaction on tasting this wine is OH FUCK I’m so glad I waited to drink this wine (yeah sorry, when all that LIFE happened, a lot of my articulation and finesse kinda died with it). I can’t remember what year I came into possession of this wine. It was a gift from my amazing grandmother. I think we had had this wine already at a family dinner or few, so I decided to keep a  hold of this particular bottle for a few years to see how it matured.

Plenty of oak on the nose. Held to the light, the colour is a brown-tinged red, reminiscent of oxidised blood. The oak flavour is very prominent, with hints of old leather, the sort that creaks heavily when you move and smells of a previous life deliciously lived. There are also lingering flavours of blackberry that ruminate on the tongue long after swallowing, slowly fading back to oak.  This wine evokes thoughts of lively dinner-table conversation and long, decadent Sunday afternoons.


As my palate has been suffering this past month due to a perma-blocked nose all has been somewhat quiet on the wine-reviewing front! However, I have been keeping busy with more clothes modifications.

Today I finished hand studding a bra. Annoyingly these things seem to be hideously fashionable at the moment, along with studs and spikes on everything else, but like all trends this one too will die and will once again belong to us. Of course it would  be easier (and possibly cheaper!) to buy one ready-made, but when it comes to studs on clothing I’m a firm believer of ‘DIY or die’ – part of what makes studded clothing so special (for lack of a better word) is the hours that go into it; it’s a real labour of love. Ready-studded clothing completely cheapens that.

So, almost 230 studs and however many hours later, here is the finished product. Hopefully I’ll get a better picture later.

Chest artillery

Chest artillery for my tiny guns!

I span a few releases whilst doing this, but the most-spun of them all was Bastardator’s Identify the Dead.

work in progress

work in progress

Despite this release being recommended in the liner notes of Darkthrone’s Circle the Wagons, I actually discovered Bastardator completely by accident, forgetful of Fenriz’s recommendation. Being a student with essay deadlines at the time, I did what comes most naturally to students and spent large chunks of time procrastinating. I’d spend far too much time on YouTube, listening to songs of bands unknown to me that would pop up in the suggestions. I discovered many a good band through doing this, and Bastardator was one of them. Having the luxury of a student loan I idly typed their name into eBay (on the strength of their name and the one song I’d listened to), expecting to find nothing, but was surprised to see a very cheap LP of Identify the Dead with no bids. So I bid, forgot about it for a few days, until I was notified that I’d won! So that was that.

I didn’t listen to Bastardator again until I received the LP in the post. I put it on for its first spin, and was greeted by some excellent speed metal; the riffs interesting and varied, the vocals with the perfect amount of harshness (I’ve always had a particular distaste for clean style thrash vocals!). I could wax lyrical, or I could do the band far more justice and let the music do the talking 😉

Those cold nights are back again… Fallen leaves return to our soil.

Tonight’s wine is Cepa Alegro, 2006,  a delicious Rioja made from Tempranillo and Graciano grapes. Perfect for a chilly October night, complementing thoughts of autumn.

Inhaling deeply, the smell is robust, earthy and oaky. Images of wandering through a damp, oaken forest are evoked; I see deep green ivy embracing the slumbering trees. Holding the glass to the light the wine is a caliginous red with a slight brownish tint, reminiscent of putrefying fallen leaves.

The first sip is an arc of flavour that builds up before hitting you like frenzied wind, the gust swelling to its peak before receding, preparing for the next blast onto the tongue. First one feels tousled by rich, woody flavours; rising to a gust of meaty, black fruit. As the gust dies down one is left with lingering bittersweet chocolate notes. Delightfully sensual yet with an air of exquisite brutishness, one feels more ravaged than caressed; one’s life is affirmed.

IF YOU CAN’T EAT IT OR FUCK IT…KILL IT! (or turn it into a t shirt)

On Friday I received a shirt I’ve been after for years, that of the mighty CARNIVORE. For those that don’t know, this was Pete Steele’s band before Type O Negative was born. One of my favourite memories of secondary school involves Carnivore; I was in Year 9, we were reading the Chrysalids, which is about a post-apocalyptic society. I had recently gotten the self titled album for my fourteenth birthday, and as the lyrics were about a post-nuclear-holocaust society I thought it would be relevant to share them with the class, to show an alternate scenario of what life might be like in the wake of armageddon. So I brought in the album, with lyrics printed out to be readable, which our teacher photocopied to hand out to the class… WITHOUT reading all of the lyrics first.

So, I put the song Predator on.. at the first roar of Pete Steele everyone looked rather startled. As the song went on, faces became more and more disgusted. At the onset of the third verse (“broken splintered bones, boiling blood, torn and bleeding skin…”) many of the class were protesting, going ‘euuughhhh’. At the point of the “meal of vagina and breasts” girls were shouting that I was antifeminist, disgusting, asking how could I listen to this and so on. No one understood the relevance of the subject matter to the subject of the book we were reading. As soon as the song was over the teacher slammed off the CD player, protesting that she had only read the first verse and didn’t know what was coming, and then put on a DVD of Jane Austin’s Emma, to take the class’s mind off of what we had just listened to. The whole experience was hilarious for me but also rather frustrating that no one could see the relevance or the humour. I don’t remember a great deal of Year 9 English, but that memory has always stuck.

Anyway, as I was saying, the shirt arrived on Friday, a men’s L. A couple of hours of pinning, slicing and stitching later, it has become a rather tight fitted girlie strappy! These days this tends to be my preferred form of modification (unless the shirt has no backprint, in which case I go the super lazy route and simply slice and tie the back. I like how it looks though!). The best strappy I ever did is my Amputated Cunt Like A Sewer shirt, which I place on the inside-out shirt and trace like a template, pin along the lines and then sew up, before cutting off the excess fabric and neck line. For the straps I use the hems of the shirt sleeves. Uninterrupted it takes around two hours, though I’m sure if I bothered using a sewing machine it would take a lot less time! As it is I do all my stitching by hand. And here it is; the finished item!

GISM wine

Seeing as the original purpose of this blog was to write about wine, time for a new review!

I believe this is the first time I have had this wine; Marquese de la Cruz, 2010, made from Garnacha Syrah and Mazuelo grapes (GSM, at a first glance I thought it said GISM [the Japanese 80s hardcore punk band who were a direct influence to the name of the band Syphilitic Vaginas, of whom after many failed attempts I finally got a vinyl a few months ago!]), from the Campo de Borja region of Spain, at 14.5%.

The first thing I notice is the colour; a bright pinkish red otherwise known as cerise, luminous and reminiscent of ripe raspberries held to the light. Next I inhale; a slight essence of vanilla, plus tones of summer fruits. Upon my first sip I am reminded of satin; the superficial sensation of softness, with an underlying edge of coarseness; delightfully sensuous but not yet on the cusp of decadence, yet still a sensation you are eager to allow to caress your being. The taste itself reminds me of summer puddings; a touch of creaminess with a long lingering sensation of raspberry with its sharp tartness yet vibrant sweetness, along with reminiscent tones of not-quite-ripe wild blackberries; a burst of complex intensity in my mouth. Ultimately this wine lacks the depth and oomph I seek in a red, but is still a hearty and enjoyable drink; a good wine to accompany an evening of  conversation (notable topics of this evening included a Beatles concert in Bristol at which they got flour bombed, being the one of the first newsreaders of the BBC to wear a floral tie, and doing comedy sketches with some of those who were to become the cast of Monty Python), and mild inebriation.


Well, this blog has been quiet for the best part of a year now, so I thought I would give it a new lease of life. From now on this blog shall be more about wine; I shall also include clothes modifications I have done, and music discussion/review. To kickstart the rebirth, here is one of the favourite bits of DIY clothes modding I have done; my denim patch jacket. It has gone through several rearrangements, but here is the one I am finally happy with!


Ravaging flesh

Having been beaten within an inch of its life, the rump is then well oiled with the extra virgin, and encrusted with diamonds of garlic. Leaving it to absorb, I open up the bottle that sits before me. A Berberana ‘Clasico 1877’ Reserva, 2006, from the Mentrida region of Spain. The colour is a vibrant, translucent blood red. My first noseful is lovely warming spices, followed up by an almost floral aroma. The first sip explodes in my mouth, caressing my tongue like fingernails softly drawn over flesh, giving rise to full, almost meaty flavours, melting away to a lasting, herby, slightly chocolatey finish.

Tearing myself away from the ravages of Bacchanalian delight I head to the kitchen to cremate some potatoes and wave a flame at the hunk of oozing flesh lounging on the kitchen surface. Once done I pour a splash of wine into the pan filled with the meaty effusions, and blast with heat before drizzling over the flesh. The flavours dance together in burning passion, purple caressing scarlet, uniting as one in my belly.