Post 100: Everybody’s Got a Tattoo Except for Me and My Monkey

In the days I’m urged to call the punk rock shambles of my misspent youth, I would sometimes descend into a paralyzing--if undisciplined and fuzzy--philosophical inquiry concerning a matter of commitment and authenticity many in my tribe considered of grave importance: to get a tattoo or to remain un-illustrated. This was a big deal. It…

Advertisements

Thoughts …

What did Vlad the Impaler say about the word "reality?" That it should always appear in quotation marks? Burke pulled a Miller Lite from the fridge and thought, "Add 'realism,' 'representational,' 'ripped from today's headlines,' 'lifelike,' et cetera, et cetera, et cetera." He walked over to the turntable and dropped the needle on "Partytime" by…

R.I.P. Ari Up

I just learned that Ari Up, front woman for the all-girl punk band The Slits, died on October 20. Always a sad occasion when someone from rock's last gasp passes on. A year older than me, she was Johnny Lydon's stepdaughter, a fact I find hard to get my head around. Condolences to John and…

Thoughts …

We became our own time machines. Then, when we grew weary living out our various pasts, we bent our swords into now-shares. We set aside our pleasant albeit useless dreams, and shaped our labor to destroy nostalgia. Still, every now and then, we send each other roses.

Rockabilly Boogie

I first encountered it years ago when, rattling around the greasy alleyway flanking the belles lettres, I crashed in a bit beer woozy through a disused side door in zips, boots, jacket, chains, and an erratic psychobilly pompadour held together with NuNile pomade and Aqua Net spray (it’s true!). Though I hadn't yet the words…