I awake already in Adjunct to 8/9/2013 flash friday; a trinity of flashs

This town used to be different. I know, I used to be different, it’s not really an either/or type of deal though. You walk into your old elementary school as an adult and it seems much smaller than you remember; it’s unlikely the building actually shrunk. But, you look in a mirror and the reflection should be the same — shit, that’s a horrible analogy.

There was this guy who lived in a suite of dorm rooms on campus in the mid seventies, Cuban national, sent on a boat in 59, his folks still stuck there, he didn’t go to school. He sold pcp tablets and listened to David Bowie and was probably gay, I don’t know, this was the wrong place and time to be out of the closet, it might have been a good place and time to be gay, just not overtly. It was post sexual revolution and “tune in, turn on, drop out” and I’m not sure which would have disturbed the fine academics of this little burg more; the pcp or gaiety.

Um, I really just meant to point out the David Bowie part. I saw Miles in the Big Aud on campus. The radio streamed pop rock and butt rock all day and all of the night (that’s forever). There were luncheon choral groups and cocktail dress orchestras. It’s not really like that any more. Um, in keeping with my horrible analogy — it’s like looking in a mirror and everything goes silent.

I knew this guy, maybe four, maybe five years older than us, hang out, smoked dope, listened to Tangerine Dream a lot. Most of the girls I knew growing up had at least one Cat Stevens album and something by Jim Croce. Me and a friend did errands for the salesguys at this stereo store and they paid us in freebies, stuff the manufacturers reps had given them to promote the product, didn’t cost them anything and to us it was like being paid our weight in gold. That friend developed his musical taste based on the quality of recording. For Decades Dark Side of the Moon was the cleanest recording for mere mortals, before that it was Phil Ochs or that Beach Boys Pet Sounds album that Brian Wilson went insane making.

I didn’t want to sound snarky; I already had musical tastes by then. I liked it all. Up the street in what is now a student slum, there was this ongoing bluegrass jam, I think it went from 72 to I don’t know, I left here in eighty and when I came back it was gone. But it was cool; Roll in my sweet babys arms (arms, arms) roll in my sweet babys arms, gonna lay round the shack til the mail train comes back and I’ll roll in my sweet babys arms.

Even so by the time the beast Punk Rock came snarling down the runway it was needed. For art to thrive it needs to be mocked, especially if it’s getting to complacent. The sound of punk rock wasn’t anything new at all, the attitude surely wasn’t, the look, however, added an extra layer of offensive. It’s considered a genre now, how the hell can it make a statement?

Ok, I lost whatever steam or vapor I had. I liked Bruce when I was a kid and that debut album hit the record store.