Look, I’ve been on the planet for five decades. WHOA! Half a century! If I’m not vigilant as possible, I tend to get real curmudgeonly. Some of my generation is tired, beaten down, or metaphorically pushing a shopping cart on the shoulder of the cyber superhighway. And I get it.
I grew up in a completely different, slower, more physically experienced, educational time. We had rock fights (yes we threw rocks at each other, and nobody ever won, you just ran out of rocks and then gave up). We blew up outhouses with M-500’s. We BMX’d in the gully. We stole nitrous tanks from hospitals and had laughing gas parties, all fun until someone’s lungs froze from ‘Bogarting’ or ‘Lloyding’ (sorry millennials an old reference to Lloyd Bridges in Sea Hunt) the tank. We toilet papered houses, drank quarts of Schlitz malt liquor then played pinball at the bowling alley. We skated and smoked Fallbrook Sess or Humboldt’s finest in the afternoon at elementary schools listening to cassettes of Black Sabbath and Ted Nugent on boom boxes.
We played asteroids and Pacman and centipede and space invaders tripping on L-25 or wet on Sherm. Whoops, I digress! In the last 3 years, I’ve had three very good creative experiences with people 20-25 years younger than me. We help each other, I provide real-life experiences from a time that they obsess on, and learn about on Google. In turn, they help me focus and maintain the structure of the piece we are working on.
I’m a big fan of the youngins! They need respect, they’re going to be here long after us boomers are gone. I grew up hard, ass whoopings, latchkey kid, no real love, or positive reinforcement. You will be able to read more of this when my book comes out on Punk Hostage Press. And I ain’t whining about it fuckuz! I’m saying that I got a deep well of experience and stories that are not boring. But I need help sometimes untangling that shit! And the youngins have no emotional or historical connection to my never-ending well of soliloquies!