Tag: punk

You know who really sucks? Dave Grohl, that’s who…

Dave Grohl is guilty of ‘betraying one’s punk rock roots.’ A high crime in my book.

So what, you say? There are a million shitty bands that aren’t worth paying attention to. And life is too short to waste your breath on something one deems not worthy, correct? Well, you’d be right about that, but Dave Grohl was in Nirvana! And Nirvana was my favorite band. Ever. Of all time. As such Dave spent years in close proximity to my favorite artist.

Like a Vietnam vet, “He was there, man!”

 Consider reading the first installment of a new fictional piece I am writing Kurt Cobain Lives In 1994 Kurt Cobain faked his own suicide. 22 years later he’s ending his self-imposed exile.

Continue reading “You know who really sucks? Dave Grohl, that’s who…”

Christmas is Coming – Part 3

My walk from home to work, from Avenue C and 4th Street to 5th Avenue just below 23rd, takes a little more than a half an hour. It can be a real bitch of a walk, especially on a cold day like today. There’s no subway that helps to cut down the travel time in any substantial way, so I’m stuck hoofing it twice a day, every day, unless I spring for a cab, which I’ve done like… once, maybe. Continue reading “Christmas is Coming – Part 3”

Drugs Come Before Rock ‘n Roll

Sophomore year at school was when things really kicked into gear, drug wise. It was the year that my life credo was imparted to me by a t-shirt. It was 1993, two years after Punk broke and my new roommate Alex was working on a mockumentary about GG Allin.

Hated - GG Allin and the murder junkies
Hated – GG Allin and the murder junkies

Sophomore year at school was when things really kicked into gear, drug wise. It was the year that my life credo was imparted to me by a t-shirt. It was 1993, two years after Punk broke and my new roommate Alex was working on a mockumentary about GG Allin.

Continue reading “Drugs Come Before Rock ‘n Roll”

A Goddess in Red Crêpe Creepers

Marnie looks fucking unbelievable as she steps from the shadows into the late afternoon sunlight. She’s gorgeous; a goddess in red crêpe creepers and a floral print dress. She‘s happy to see me and shows it, with a smile that envelops her zit-free, porcelain face. The smile is a gift and if I’m struck dead at this moment I feel as if I will have served my purpose in life. As we walk, I do my best to not look over at her. I want to reach across those electric 3 inches between us and hold her hand. Instead I just stare down at my high-top Nikes. Continue reading “A Goddess in Red Crêpe Creepers”