I have this other friend who is facinated by transgenders (I still have my sack, thank you very much.) It really got me to thinking. I think all I've ever wanted to be is a pale, lanky, inked, punk rock guy. To my credit, I've got the pail thing down according to the lucky few who've seen my ass on occasion. The sentiment and dedication and emotion are all there. It just doesn't really fit with my appearance (despite me having the world's largest black t-shirt collection.)
People always ask me about tattoos. I've never gotten any and really don't want 'em. I've always thought that it would be an untrue statement to the world about who I am. I love 'em on most people. But I think it's just a rung on the ladder of cool that I feel justified in skipping. So I've kinda sabotaged myself in my quest for punk rock longevity.
My hair is kinda long and I wear a beard that's nicely coifed (I did find some of my lunch in it today. Who wants seconds?) Not really punk rock anymore. I'm no Tyler Durden, but I could easily be mistaken for anyone in the band Three Dog Night. I'd actually probably take that as a compliment anyway. I've never told anyone this, but my long hair is really more of a tribute to a friend of mine (There is some gay about to come your way, watch your eyes.) Even though I know how utterly adorable I am with my short, nicely-parted, clean-shaven, I-love-my-khakis look, it's not who I am. One of my best friends in the world, Howard, has had long hair since Kiss took off their make-up (except for his stint at Dillard's). I admire that. He's a rocker and he always will be. He told me the story of going to his 20th class reunion and how clearly he recognized that he has never compromised who he is. Most of his friends got married two or three times and have kids like most people two decades removed from high school. They had to be in awe of Howard. This is a guy who managed to see the Scorpions 20 or 30 times in Birmingham over the years. While that in itself is pretty impressive, it's representative of a very concrete set of values that my friend has. The fact that my pal has long hair might not correlate to the choices he's made or how happy is at this exact moment, but I'm positively certain that there is a lot of comfort in knowing exactly who you are. And I think that's pretty fucking punk rock.
As far as the lanky part goes... Well, dudes, it ain't gonna happen. My brother is the tallest person in my immediate family and he stands a towering 5'9" (he'd say 5'10"... He understands the importance of an extra inch.) We weren't issued legs at birth, but I suspect I was probably given a Krispy Kreme doughnut and a sack full of Krystals upon my exit from the birth canal. I can't really blame glands or big bones or even my effin DNA. I just really enjoy eating a box of Cap'n Crunch in a sitting. Granted, I haven't eaten that stuff in quite a while, but I could if I'm in some eating contest on ESPN 2. Gluttony isn't really punk rock either. That's the straight-edge philosophy. And that's the most punk rock part of punk rock, restraint. Being above an influence is the hardest thing in the world to conquer. But I can only take baby steps with each mile I walk on that treadmill and resisting the urge to get my picture on the wall at Vortex for successfully eating the Double Bypass Burger.
I guess that's why the Emo subculture was created in the first place. It's like being Stuart Smalley but with a bitchin' iPod and a bag from American Apparel. And while the labels themselves are ridiculous, they exist for a reason. I guess I'm cool with that. I couldn't wait to get my Radiohead tix. But ya know, I've never bought anything from American Apparel anyway. I can't wear girl jeans even though chicks seem to dig that nowadays. I'd like to think my Levi's and Ratt t-shirt are timeless.
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