Friday, June 22, 2012

no recess

So I'd thought about hitting up my high school reunion, in part because a former classmate and bandmate said he might be up for going and at least I'd have someone to sit with and reminisce about AP history videos of absurdity and weekends of driving around suburbia listening to the Misfits,debating the merits of various bands and ways of looking at the world, between him being all into Aleister Crowley and me being the token Jesushead and our other friend being all into some kind of Max Cavalera-back-to-the-primitive Star Wars pantheism, it was always entertaining, and no wonder that the band fell apart, but those were good times that fall that 9/11 happened and we were more abstractedly angry than anything coherent. As I've gotten older I feel like I know more what to be mad about but less of what to do.

So having transferred in after a traumatic freshman year elsewhere, I have no real emotional attachment either negative or positive to where my diploma came from. I never got really picked on, as the place was huge, I had no history, and fell enough in the middling crowd to not get messed with too much, I made some friends, other smart slacker geeks, who listened to the Dead Kennedys and Overkill and Slayer and loaned me books by Henry Rollins, who was more or less our patron saint. I didn't keep in touch with anyone really, because what would we talk about outside that framework. Some people went out and were successful and others ended up in jail, and part of me thought it'd be fun to go for kicks and giggles just to people-watch and observe because hey why not.

But it turns out that there are tickets, and said tickets, which include hors d'oeuvres but no booze, are about the price of seeing a good touring band come through Clevelandia, with no such guarantee of a good time, as it's at a yuppie wine bar and the people who I know are coming are people I either can't remember or never hung out with. I understand it costs something maybe to coordinate such a thing, but it also seems like a handy way to keep the riff-raff out. I'm curious enough about the world to put myself in awkward situations with a way out, but this doesn't seem to be worth the trouble.


  1. Sexy Randal the Pharaoh Wizard says you made the right choice. I'm sure you can find the non-evil folks on Zuckerbook.


  3. Randal,
    Yep, that's cash that can go for tunes instead of awkwardness of the highest degree.

    Saw about 15 minutes of an HR solo show and he seemed barely there. It was sad, but those early albums are still amazing.

  4. he was always a bit of a headcase, somehow in BB and fishbone that translated into early but unsustainable success.