I am deep in the abyss of NaNoWriMo, busily writing a terrible draft of the next (eventually) great American novel, so please enjoy this piece that I prepared and performed for Truth Be Told, Boulder in April 2016.
If you want to read more, the Miah I talked about is also featured in this blog entry from the same month.
OK, I realize I’m really stretching here to make the letter N work. I had a legit topic for the letter N, but based on my experience last night, I decided a change was in order and that I was going to make what I wanted to say work with N no matter what.
Last night I saw the Stone Temple Pilots in concert. That’s right – STP of Plush, Creep, and Interstate Love Song fame. Scott Weiland no longer sings with them. Their current lead singer is Chester Bennington from Linkin Park.
Let’s just pause for a minute to think about how strange that is. To be the singer of a band that started its rise just as the heyday of STP was ending. Did Chester ever admire Scott and dream of being like him some day? Was he a kid in an STP audience at some point, fantasizing about when it would be his turn in the spotlight? Even if not, it’s got to be odd to be a star in your own right and then be asked to fill someone else’s shoes. Continue reading →
In my sophomore year, I went to my first real high school party. You know, the kind you see in the movies when the parents are out of town and the high school football star (my friend’s handsome older brother, in this case) invites everyone in the entire school, even the nerds, to his house and drunk teenagers are vomiting all over the lawn and horny teenagers have locked themselves in bedrooms they were told to stay out of. That kind. I don’t know who had the fake ID to buy it, but there was plenty of beer for the taking. And we were cool kids – we didn’t drink Budweiser or Miller. We drank Labatt. Labatt Blue and Labatt Ice were the high-class beers among underage drinkers in Western New York.
So, I imbibed and I did not like it! The often used analogy of “piss” seemed quite accurate, though I didn’t have experience tasting either. I recall standing on the lawn, Labatt bottle proudly in hand, stupidly flattered by the attention of a stoner who was in the junior class. As we were talking, I was looking for opportunities to surreptitiously pour out some of the beer without ending our very important conversation about Marlboro versus Marlboro Light and losing the potential of being invited to suck some of this undeserving suitor’s cigarette butt breath from his lips. Continue reading →