Sunday, February 15, 2015

L.A. Punk Rocker ... In the works.


It’s 1981 and I am seventeen. Old enough to know better, yet young enough not to care. Being the baby of the family no longer suited me. There was a great big mysterious world out there and I wanted to get lost in it. Wanted to know what it felt like to have my own voice and to use it. The songs I listened to described exactly what I was feeling. I played them over and over again, taking the lyrics in. Singing to them and making them mine. Identifying with each word that spatted out. Like they were coming from me. It was electric. 


Being on the streets was legendary. My first taste of adulthood. I was free and I liked it. I didn’t care if my style wasn’t like anyone else’s. Even better, I figured. My hair shined from the glob of goop I rubbed in it and my eyes were dark like owls. With a flash of the hand I would no longer be the awkward outcast from the valley. Instantly I turned into a girl of the night.




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