I'm listening to Bad Religion at work, their '80-'85 collection disc and it's fantastic. The store is empty. There's lots of yelling. I haven't listened to this album, or any Bad Religion really, in a long time. I still know all the words to every song.
In high school I listened to Bad Religion every single day. My sister had a "How could Hell be any worse?" t-shirt and I always wanted it, even though it was way too big for either of us. Back then, I ate Dairy Queen five times a week. I'd come home from work covered in fryer grease, sesame seeds and smell like unwashed crotch. I'd get naked and lay on my bed, listening to Bad Religion. Sometimes the Germs, sometimes Bad Brains, Misfits, Dead Kennedys, Wire. But always Bad Religion.
I had abs back then. I loved different people back then and all I could grow was sideburns. They had no shape and I'm kind of ashamed to say I had them. All I cared about was coming home, hitting my bass as hard as possible and sing along with music. I was terrible at both and I didn't care. I just wanted somebody to hear my voice.
My cousins Bob and Vince moved to Florida with their family over the summer. Both were in a few bands together. Bob said he's moving back this summer, and Vince might be, too. We're going to make tons of noise and play concerts. I want to jump off stages again without a shirt on and get paid to have fun. Right now, I get paid to make copies. Occasionally fax things, pack cell phones and vases in boxes and send them in airplanes across bodies of water.
Bad Religion supplement:
**
This statement is true. It's raining somewhere right now. Somewhere else, somebody is getting a BJ. A big, fat BJ. Me? I'm sitting here reading Euro Tuner. I decided to give up on poetry this week. Maybe I'll pick it up again next week.
But for this week, I've concentrated on other things. Work, bank account stuff, being a grown up. I hate it, but I haven't written anything decent in two months or so, and it kind of makes my body hurt. Whatever.
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