Snobbin: Beautiful Trash in the Pop Culture Gutter

It's hard to believe that I will be moving back to the Midwest soon. I snagged a teaching job in Ironwood, Michigan, a town that I visited often in the late 90s because it was an hour from my hometown. I generally went there to buy records at a corporate record store (Was it a Sam Goody?). I was living in my small hometown after a poor trial run at college, and did not get back to central Wisconsin until Fall 1999.  I had heard there was a punk venue, and I found it on one of these forays into Upper Michigan. It was called The Rat Cellar. They sold a few records and had shows in the basement. For a few years, I hung out with the local punk kids and watched many local and national touring bands in that dank basement.   There were a few highlights from those shows besides the friends I made. Sadly, I did not keep in touch with any of them. However, I did see one of the little kids who attended those shows more than a decade later in a Wisconsin Rapids basement. Connections ...

Jeremiah and I rented the Lost House some time in 2001 because we wanted a bigger place that would hold us and our friend, Matt. The place was too big, so we had to get a roommate. Eventually, Jeremiah's cousin moved into a room in our house that was not that bigger than a closet. Another guy  moved in upstairs with Mat, and maybe I will discuss him in more detail in a future post. Needless to say the guy was a mess and caused us more stress than you could ever imagine.  We decorated the house in Punk and Industrial Chic, taping flyers, newspaper clippings, and comic strips to the dirty walls. It soon resembled  a larger version of my bedroom in high school. Much to my mother's dismay, I covered the walls of my room with clippings and pictures from floor to ceiling, tacking up whatever took my fancy from punk ads to clippings from old books. My room was on the second floor of the house, which earlier had been converted from an attic, so the lower half of the wall had pa...

When I was a kid, I played a lot of video games and generally listened to oldies music while I played. A few years later, I became a music junky and started buying CDs, but at that time, radio stations that my peers were not listening to were perfect. I have some constant, nagging (too strong a word) memories. There are specific memories that stand out. One of these took place on a stormy summer night. I was listening to oldies radio and playing Batman: The Video Game , which I had rented from Park Video. I rented so many games over the years, until after high school, when I virtually stopped playing. To be fair, playing the video game is a memory that should not have stuck with me, but it is there, a fragment of more innocent times.  My memory is hazy, and I don't remember any of the songs, but I do remember bits and pieces of the game. Batman could leap from wall to wall, and one of the weapons was a batarang. It was an average sidescroller, but it was not as hard as Battletoa...

I rub my sleepy eyes and clean the last dishes. My week at the cabin is over, and I slowly pack the car. I'll be back in a few days when I will have to say bye for another year. The river is low again, but the grass is green, and the day is cool. More rain is in the forecast. I take a deep breath, lock the door, and move on.

While tidying up the cabin by washing the dishes and sweeping the floors before everyone leaves, I reflect on another year. We are all getting older and tamer. There are fewer altercations and more hugs along with earlier bedtimes and more snoring. We awake earlier each year, and people leave sooner on Sunday.

Early Morning coffee in the kitchen. Jim is making eggs.  I hear a clutch of conversation when I wake up. Peter, Donny, Josh, Matt, Joe. I let the discussions hang. I get up to take my morning walk, skirting other hungover zombies.

The creek is high, appearing more like a pond each year. Past it there is a dark patch of woods. Birch and Spruce mingle with Slender Ash. Big Rock looks inviting amidst stalwart pines.