Some Thoughts on the Music of My Non-Misspent Youth

It’s apparent now that Slayer was a couple of good guitarists, a fine bassist, and only a passable drummer. When I was in marching band, I asked Mr. Runty to do an arrangement of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida for us to do in pep band and all the stoners would run back into the gym when we played it because they all were like “Slayer?! Cool.”

But wasn’t this song also on the Less than Zero soundtrack? Man, didn’t we all think this was going to be something and all that came of it was fucking Limp Bizkit. Anyway, Slayer should have borrowed Anthrax’s drummer, that’s for damn sure.

Oh, Anthrax. This song, whenever I hear it, it tastes like Marlboro reds, beer, and C’s neighbor, who I have to believe, when I look back on it, must have tasted like a bottle of Drakkar Noir, but in my memory just tastes like something sad and dangerous. Was his brother hot, too? I can’t remember. Hell, I can’t remember if he was hot, even. Just that he played this song and taught us to smoke and let us take tiny sips off his beer, which he drank openly, without fear of repercussions from his dad.

I guess shit probably didn’t go that easy for him. I know it didn’t for C. I used to think that I could be cold enough and sharp enough that I could be dangerous. But I was young. I was probably just annoying. What I wanted, though, was to be tough in a way I never could pull off in real life, because I had a lot I wanted to be able to turn my back on. I used to think I escaped. I could go on to do anything else with my life than be stuck in that place with people I wished could have what they dreamed instead of what they settled for. But I didn’t, really.

I still carry those folks in my heart, back in the dark corner.



The Trainwreck

The Butcher sat next to me on the couch this morning, slumped over right on the edge of the cushion. “That was the worst it’s been in a long time, wasn’t it?”

“Oh my god,” I said, “Yes. What was that?”

My bathroom is in shambles. I have been informed that I should just brush my teeth in the kitchen until I can get a plumber in. I have a pile of back issues of a bird magazine published in a state I don’t live in. I have a whole new set of dishes in my cabinets that I didn’t ask for nor need because I already have a set of dishes. And they’re talking about buying the house next door. Ha ha ha. Wouldn’t that be funny? Oh, and I’m a horder because I don’t sort the mail and throw out the flyers when I bring it in. People. I don’t bring the mail in. The Butcher gets it when he lets the dog out when he gets home from work.

Let me repeat. My dad, who brought into this house magazines pertaining to birds from a state I don’t live in, a set of dishes I don’t need because I already have dishes, and who left my bathroom in worse shape than he found it knowing money is tight for us this month, has decided I’m a horder because I don’t sort the mail how he would when I bring it in when I don’t even bring the mail in.And when I called him on this shit, he admitted to just making it up in order to have something to give me a hard time about.

Yes, I believe that this is as close an admission as I’m ever going to get that he is mean because it’s fun for him. But there it is. He’s mean because it’s fun for him. He makes shit up because it lets him be mean, which is fun for him.

And now my whole fucking day is just going to be a joy because I’m still so wound up about this.

Honestly, I hear all this bullshit about the importance of two-parent homes and about how important it is for a man to be in his child’s life, even if he isn’t good to the child’s mom. As if, seriously, as if a man can ever be shitty to the woman he’s had children with and not be shitty to his children. It is not possible. Once being a cruel fucker is the way you get through life and get your way, that’s just how you deal with everyone you love unless you become afraid that your cruel-fucker behavior will result in negative consequences you can’t manipulate.

And since you never come to believe that there are negative consequences you can’t manipulate, you never have any reason to stop being a cruel fucker. Think on that, you women who are sitting in relationships with assholes because you think it’s better for your kids. Eventually this shit is going to bite your kid in the ass as hard or harder than it’s biting you. That day will come. And then it will continue for the rest of your kid’s life. Listen and believe.

Anyway, I hate everything today.