Apparently, if you are lucky enough to attain a certain age, things that existed in your youth come to appear absurd in the cold light of the present. Such is the case with me, and the phenomenon of skinheads in the Boston hardcore “scene.” It sounds strange to say, but in the mid 80’s, for those of us of a certain temperament, skinheads were a problem, like a real personal safety-style problem. Back in those days in Boston (and New York and D.C.) there was a very real danger of getting your ass kicked by skinheads for myriad offenses, things like having “stupid hair.”
Disclaimer: This is a long entry (4600 + words), unless you’ve got a few minutes and like stories about LSD in cemeteries it might be best to start with another entry…
“Face it. You’re a pussy. You’re scared,” Sean says. He’s obviously attempting to goad me into going inside the tomb. It’s not going to work though. I won’t let him trick me. I’m not going in that creepy-ass, little room.
Sean is my friend, but I need to remember he’s also a major prick. He’s the kind of guy that abuses people for fun and for some reason I usually do what he says. I hate that he can often quite easily, get me to do what he wants. I’m not going to fall for his shit this time though. I’m not gonna cave. Continue reading