It never fails that after a loooooong night out drinking and waking up the next morning hungover as absolute hell, that you'll hear someone say, "Ughh... I am NEVER drinking again..." When you hear them say that, just wait until you see them drinking water or juice or something. Then you can say, "You know, I wish you weren't such a fucking liar!"
*************************************************************
Looking back on my childhood, one thing that constantly sticks out is my Dad's lack of pop culture when relating to me as his teenage son. Technically I'm sure this happens in every generation, and I can only hope my future children and I will be able to continue this ackward bond. I'm sure it happened between my Dad and my grandfather. I'm sure it happened between my grandfather and great grandfather, barring pop culture even existed in the 1910's... still, it's pretty funny when you look back on it.
One time I believe me and my little brother were eating lunch somewhere with my dad in say circa 1994, when he spotted someone he knew and they engaged in conversation. As their conversation winded along, Dad said something like,"You know, it's crazy how fast your kids grow up. One minute they're in grade school, and the next thing you know... I mean, hell, my boy here is listening to David Bowie records like I used to..." which made me almost choke on whatever I was eating. David Bowie? Ok, first of all, its safe to say I have never been some sort of avid David Bowie listener. I might have heard "Spiders From Mars" on the classic rock station once or twice, but I wasn't dressing up like Ziggy Stardust or anything. David Bowie? I was like 14 years old. The only thing I cared about was wearing flannel shirts and listening to Metallica tapes. What the hell? David Bowie?! David BOWIE?! Wasn't he in Labyrinth? Not only accusing me of listening to David Bowie, but implying that HE used to listen to David Bowie. I didn't know what was worse...
There was this other time I remember we were at an LSU football game and being the private catholic high school rebel I was, I was just sitting there with my bangs in my eyes. That was the "grunge fashionista rebellion" of private school. Grow the front of your hair long so you could quickly swing it tho the side of your forehead when the disciplinarian came into view. Anyways, I don't think I was in an ill tempered mood or anything. Just sitting there watching the game when Dad goes "Get that hair out of your eyes... who do you think you are? Slash? Do you think your Slash?" Come on. Slash? By 1994, we were waaaay to occupied with Kurt Cobain's suicide. Guns and Roses was so 1989. I was just snickering to myself over that one. I mean, if I was wearing a top hat with really curly hair in my face, smoking a cigarette, wearing a leather jacket and pants and playing a Les Paul whilst sitting in Tiger Stadium and watching a football game, then yes. Then I would probably venture to say that I thought I was Slash.
So David Bowie and Slash... you guys played a small part in my upbringing, but your sheer mention and comical pop image will live on in my mind forever. I get flashbacks when I'm lucky to spot a father in his 40's with his gothed out teenage son with a pierced lip lagging behind him at public gatherings. I was once that tortured soul too, young man. Don't worry. Life only gets better.
No comments:
Post a Comment