The non-chronological collected works of my misspent youth, with notes, for your reading pleasure. Most names have been changed because I probably didn't ask you first.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Comrades: Journal, September 1995

Speaking of self-righteous and stupid: Natalie and I went to a show at Dick Street last night and might have argued those dirty patchwork assholes on those moldy sofas on the front porch if it had even been worth it. Which it wouldn’t. They fashion themselves Bike Punx and stink to high heaven and graffiti the railroad bridges around Greensboro with catchy slogans like “The Revolution Will Not Be Motorized,” which is ridiculous because the placement makes it look like their problem is with trains. And wouldn’t trains, nay, wouldn’t better public transportation IN GENERAL solve some of their issues with the evil capitalist car culture? Because I don’t see Nana on a ten-speed.

More to the point, what revolution are they talking about? You hear a lot about the revolution, but no one can answer me the basics like, “What’s it about?” or “When is it happening?” (though everybody’s pretty sure their crappy screamy emo noise band will be playing ). I’m pretty sure I’m not invited to the revolution because, as has been pointed out MANY TIMES by MANY PEOPLE, I am a poser (I'm not actually an anarchist, I just dress like one). Which is fine. I don’t need your shitty revolution anyway. I do need coffee.


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