Generations
A few years back, I was interviewed for the documentary Punk The Capital, DC Punk, and honestly, it turned out to be one of the worst experiences of my life. I regret saying yes to that documentary, as it felt more like a waste of my time and energy than a meaningful contribution to the punk scene that I once cherished. The whole process left me feeling frustrated and disillusioned, as the final product did not capture the raw essence of what punk truly represents; instead, it seemed to serve a different agenda altogether. My contributions and those of my peers were overshadowed, leaving us to wonder if our stories were worth telling at all.
Photo by Johnfred Cornell, 2008
“Keep the dream alive,
Close the window calm the light
And it will be alright
No need to bother now
Let it out let it all begin
Throw it to the wind my love.”
Dreaming of a big 1980s party at the house, I searched for silverware for guests and found a container of plastic forks, spoons, and knives. Standing by the stage, I saw that the party was already organized. Close to me were Mike from Zed Records and Joey Ramone, presenting some wild art videos. I was with two friends, feeling young, with our hair smelling like the carefree days of our mid-twenties.
I awoke to the realization I was now 62. My youthful rebellion is long past. It is ok by me, yet my dreams consistently place me back at those times. I awoke affirming the truth often. So today while outside with the cats’ daily romp I addressed this reality and stepped next to the crones around the cauldron.
Enjoying my cackling fate as such.
Then I viewed Facebook and two hits came forward quickly. The curse of punk rock. My published books were being acknowledged and enjoyed, and thought time to finally let it go. No way.
So, I guess I will be present with my punk story still, sharing the raw energy of rebellion and individualism that defines my experiences, and weaving together the threads of my encounters within that vibrant subculture, where music, fashion, and a fierce DIY ethic collide to create a sense of belonging and freedom that resonates deeply within me. Yet it is not available anywhere that I can still embrace in the real world.
Later youngest son and I went to our local 70s flashback market. I like to blend my lived generations. A musical cocktail. The idea of ballads came forth as Boz Scaggs – We’re All Alone a 70s ballad played in the ethers in this charmed market. Driving home another ballad from the 80s played on the car radio, Billy Idol – Eyes Without A Face. This is my 2020 experience now… cackle cackle.
“I’m all out of hope
One more bad break
Could bring a fall
When I’m far from home
Don’t call me on the phone
To tell me you’re alone
It’s easy to deceive
It’s easy to tease
But hard to get release.”
