It’s “Think!” for short, or “Think for Yourself!” if you want to say the whole thing, the whole slogan. It’s kind of our city’s motto. Well the motto for us hardcore kids anyway. I wrote it all over my Chuck Taylors and you see it spray painted all over Boston. It started with the skinheads I think, maybe down in DC, but fuck, who cares who started it? I figure it’s just as applicable to me and my skate crew as any shithead skin. We fucking “think for ourselves” too! Just cuz what I “think” involves doing whatever drug I can physically get my hands on, doesn’t mean I can’t use the fucking words! I don’t give a fuck what some meathead skin-loser has to say about it. Let them get their rocks off beating up black kids or some shit, but don’t tell me you’re superior to me because I take drugs and drink! That I don’t “think!” That’s plain fucked up logic. “Think for yourself, asshole!” is what I say.
I listen to hardcore, too. My favorite band is Gang Green and I fucking mosh in the pit, same as those fucking loser skinheads. Fuck them. They all think they’re so damn tough. Some of ’em even think they have some god given right to be the only ones that wear Docs! How fucked is that? I don’t subscribe to that shit. I wear my Doc Martens proudly to hardcore shows and shit. I wear sneakers more often cuz they are better for skating, but I’m not afraid to wear my Docs. Fuck that. They saw my brother’s buddy, Mel wearing Docs in Copley Square this one time and chased him halfway across town trying to steal ’em. They didn’t catch him but how fucked is that?
The truth is the skins are tough. Most of ’em anyway. There’s a bunch of ’em that are all skinny and hang out with the tough guys but aren’t that tough themselves, but most of them are tough. They fucking fight all the time and lift weights and shit. That’s their thing. Violence. I like violence well enough but I’m sure as hell not a racist and no fucking way am I straight edge! How stupid is that shit?
One thing I’ve known since I was a kid was that I like getting fucked up. Never thought to question it. Faster, better, more, that’s my motto. Oh, and “Think!” Once when I was like 9 the dentist gave me laughing gas when he filled my cavity. I fucking loved it. The next time I went to the dentist, I waited till the dude left the room and then I strapped the mask on my face and turned the knob on the machine. I full-on passed out and had insane dreams dude. Shit was awesome. The dentist called my Mom and told her about it. She tried to ground me, but it was totally worth it. I’d do it again in a second. Huffing is pretty good too. I dig huffing. I even had an aural hallucination once. It was pretty fucking bugged out.
I was at my buddy’s house. Well, actually I broke into his apartment when he was away, because he’s in college and he and his roommates were at home visiting their families at Thanksgiving. So I knew their apartment was empty. I climbed up the fire escape and I broke in through the back window. It was cool to have the place to myself. It’s nice to be able to chill out and get fucked up indoors, which I hardly ever get to do because I live with my Mom. Unless it’s a party, but parties are never chill, so it’s a different thing. I’m always having to drink booze and smoke weed in the park or in an alley or something. About the only thing I can do when my Mom is home is huff. Or sniff coke, but that shit is expensive, so I can’t get it that much.
Anyway I was sitting on the floor in his room playing my friend-who-was-out-of-town’s records. I was listening to Sargeant Pepper’s. I’d heard that record before and there were some hardcore records there too, but for whatever reason I was listening to that Beatles record and I was huffing film cleaner. I’m pretty sure I had smoked some weed too. Film cleaner is even better than rubber cement. Shit is bent, gets you fucked up.
Anyway, I was listening to that record, and if you ever heard it before, the Beatles do some wacky shit on that one. They have this one kind of poppy guitar song where the dudes are singing all happy. That happy sound transforms into like some big orchestral sounding thing with violins and shit. It’s buggin’. The song goes real loud, real intense and then it ends with what sounds like some dude banging his head on the piano keys. Like he was playing and he was so into it that the song crescendos and he’s feeling-it fucking so hardcore that he has a huge fatal heart-attack right there and his head drops onto the piano keys. The keys drone on and the guy is just lying there, his head on the keyboard all dead, all final and shit. I was sniffing the film cleaner and fucking flipping out! Anyway, so just when that part of the song happens and it drifts off into silence I hear this sound. It sounds like a child saying…
Like plain as day! Like right behind my ear. I spin around and expect to see Malachi from ‘Children of the Corn’ standing there. It was so fucking bugged out! There wasn’t a molecule of doubt in my mind that I had heard this child’s voice. It took a few seconds to calm down, but it was pretty clear there was no one else there in the apartment with me. Eventually I decided that I must have just been freaking out from the film cleaner and maybe the weed, but still, that was a trip. So don’t tell me I don’t fucking think for myself!
I ended up going to Harvard Square after that. I went over there to get some pizza. Anyway, while I was over there I met this girl, she was like a skinhead girl who wanted to get fucked up too. Her name was Katt, with two T’s and she had that stupid skinhead-chick fringe haircut. We got a bum to buy us some beer and some vodka and we went back to my friend’s apartment and I broke in again. We got all shitfaced and I played that Beatles song for her but she wasn’t into it and didn’t want to huff. For some reason I find girls aren’t as into huffing as dudes. So I guess I don’t have to tell you I didn’t hear the Malachi kid whispering in my ear again. But still the night turned out ok, cuz Katt let me fuck her. It was pretty wild. She was all bundled up because it was pretty cold out, but once I got all those layers off of her she had a pretty sweet looking body and some pretty nice boobs too. She let me do it to her doggie. It was fresh cuz she was wearing this silver chain around her belly. For some reason that turned me on. It all worked out pretty good. That’s for sure. I got pizza and I got drunk AND I got laid.
My friend was pissed at me when he got back from out of town and found out that I had broken into his house and partied there, but whatever. He was right that I did kind of get the place a little dirty but he’ll get over it. That guy just needs to understand I’m a fucking free spirit. I do whatever is coming up next, you know? I fucking think for myself.