Friday, March 16, 2012


Some of us were never cool, and found our place among the other strange folk, because at least in those enclaves there was usually some modicum of acceptance or commonality of otherness if nothing else, and the inevitable secondary hierarchies formed from there, where betas assumed the alpha positions they could not attain the rest of the world, scene queens instead of prom queens, gatekeepers of clique and subculture, big fish in small ponds. Just from being at enough shows and listening to the conversations, I don't totally buy this whole warm and fuzzy community because people seem to be just as catty and cliquish as anyone in the "mainstream" and besides, being all sensitive and 'indie' is in now and at this point I've more or less checked out of expecting anything different.

The social dynamics of the teenage pressure cooker of high school never really end, it's just that we separate out as we get older, diffusing to different parts of town, different places of employment, instead of lunch tables, curbing our interactions with those we shared nothing in common with and finding circles with people who share the same politics or religions or values, a self-segregating with the occasional interaction outside that milieu. It's nice to not be stuck with them in the same space for so many hours a week and the distance makes us forget until the emails about a ten-year reunion start pouring in.

Given that Clevelandia is more or less a very big small town, it's inevitable that those one prefers to avoid for whatever reason will be encountered somewhere. It may not be my classmates in this case, but it was others in my world who deemed me as not "something" enough, for not liking the right bands or having the wrong political views or just not being tiny and artfully tattooed. I get too excited about things to be ironic, even if to Randal's chagrin I find everything funny.

It was with trepidation that I realized I'd be in the company of these folks once more, even if it's for a musical event, but then once the initial freakout subsided, I realized that they probably don't even know I exist, because it's been at least ten years since any interaction has taken place. Time flies it seems, but the past just doesn't seem to dissolve away fast enough.

1 comment:

  1. Chagrin? That hurts, homie. Being completely normal, I merely find such behavior straunge.

    ♪ take King Diamond seriously, grandma ♫

    Cliques? Ewwwww.