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fritz
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It was about the middle of winter, the coldest part, and Perdona was playing at the first hardcore show of the season. It was absolutely freezing outside. We stood inside in a pool room that was set off from the stage, keeping warm and watching from a distance. Our jackets were already threadbare and old, they didn't need to be torn more than they already were. I could feel the metal studs down my shoulders and the bondage rings I‘d sewn into the sleeves. The metal was so cold it felt like it was burning me. I wished that I smoked so I could have a cigarette to keep warm. It had to be helping everyone else a little bit, because they didn’t look half as cold as I felt.
Zach and Ben were there, jumping around in the pit and up to their usual antics. They’d link arms from behind and spin in circles, taking turns sticking their feet out, or get on each other’s shoulders to play chicken with kids in the circle and see how long it took for one or both of them to fall over. Brian wasn‘t there, and neither was Lauren. We all knew why. Bubba the skinhead showed up late. He was always late. I think he was too cool to show up on time. He always had a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. He'd always break the bat, but never his smoke, and he'd end up puking blood after the show. I almost stepped in it once.
The set was almost over, and Nancy jumped off stage into the pit. She was the most hardcore kid I knew, and never tried to be. She wore her hair differently every time I saw her. Sometimes it was up, and sometimes it was down, and sometimes neither. She had scalpeled ears, I swear the tunnels she wore were over two inches across, and her bandana never matched her clothing. She was tough as nails, could scream like nobody's business, and she was so pretty. I think she was the reason girls hated other girls.
We were all tired, some a little high and some a little tipsy. It wasn't worth hanging around for the rest of the show, since all the rest of the bands sounded the same. Audrey was the only band other than Perdona that was any good. We drove to Sonic, and got lost on the way there. Somehow we found the causeway and drag-raced station wagons over it. After a lot of screwing around and nearly getting pulled over we found the restaurant and we sat outside instead of in cars. A lot of people were there before us. It was an interesting sight for people driving by I think. Skinheads, punk kids, and misfits. Mohawks, bondage jackets, ripped up clothes, bleeding noses, battle scars, kids playing acoustic guitars, drumming on tables. The waitresses looked relieved that we had to order from outside and scared to come out to serve us. One did come out eventually, after what looked like a lot of debating.
We were all good kids, though. Really good kids, we just didn’t look it I guess. We tried in school, and got good grades, and helped clean up garbage by the side of the road. Some of us smoked, but not all the time, and one or two drank when they had something horrible to deal with. A lot of us were homeless or parentless or had some kind of horrible living situation. Those of us better off let other kids live with us, those homeless or ones with really bad families, or found them somewhere, and gave them money for food and clothes and everything. Zach and I taught a lot of kids how to read music and theory and play bass guitar or drums or concert instruments like clarinet so they could be in a band. We all helped to put together a zine every so often, and wrote about everything and drew comics and took pictures and gave it to everyone. There weren’t ever many copies, since we gave it away for free, but people passed it around and everyone read it at least once.
We got an order of everything, and shared all of it. We even got brainfreezies and milkshakes, they didn‘t feel very cold compared to the outside. Whoever wanted a bite of something could have it, everything got passed around except for the hamburgers. A lot of kids were vegan or vegetarian, so we refrained from getting too may things with meat. It sounds dangerous now, sharing food like that and getting sick with who knows what. I don’t know if we just didn’t think of it or we just didn’t care. I guess we trusted each other. I don’t think I ever caught anything, but maybe I just don’t know it yet.
There aren’t really shows anymore. I can’t remember the last time all of us went to a show and had a good time. The scene started dying and it’s almost disappeared. Bands started breaking up, people had to go to college, and a whole lot of new kids showed up. The new people weren’t like us. They didn’t get along and they started fights for no reason and did stupid things and got all of us in trouble. Ben went to college and Zach moved away a little while ago, the journey that was Four Year Fight died with him. Jamie and friends went to college out of state, Brad got a masters degree and had to leave to find work. I don’t know what happened to the rest of us. I haven’t seen Nancy or Bubba or any of the kids I was so close to for a long time. I hate thinking about it. It makes me feel old and bitter, remembering earlier days and hating where I’m at now.
I need to get the hell out of here.
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041114
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