I recently listened to BLINK 182's first two demos, Flyswatter and Demo #2, respectively, for the very first time. Growing up in the mid-to-late '90s, I was exposed entirely to their MuchMusic era, and consequently associated their name with sickly mall-pop songs, videos of ultra clean mall-punks and the dull beige walled existence that was suburban Kelowna (and the mall). My mom bought me Take Off Your Pants and Jacket for my 15th birthday and it took me at least 6 months before I got the name.
Then I moved into the Alf House, a crisp September in 2004, and met many amazing, inspiring people, one of whom was Miranda. We went out for breakfast, went cruising at the karaoke bar, started a band and wrote songs about beefing up and commuter cyclists, and at some point she got me back into Blink, and I heard Chesire Cat and Dude Ranch, for if not the first, then the most thorough time.
But the first two demos are pretty unique among it all. I'm not a gushing fan, but it's super shitty basement pop punk, just how I like it. Possibly a bit less drum heavy and more melodic than I likeit. It sounds like a band Miranda and I would have started. Or any of us from that time in the mid-2000s. The ever arbitrary Golden Days.
I've been out of sorts lately, and I forgot that writing shit out is as much self-indulgence as it is self-care. So this is self-care. I feel like my values are falling away from me and being replaced with a brick foundation of indifference, drinking, smoking, stiff muscles and broken hearts. Dealing has turned into breaking down, talking about it has turned into pursed lip smiles, and being okay with it has turned into getting angry drunk.
When does it fucking end? After 25 right? My 26th birthday will be a cold shower of clarity and understanding. Right? I fucking hope so.
xolegs