August 04, 2007
Mish Mash Mosh
I just remembered... In high school, in Washington State, at the onset of what would become "the grunge years," I would run up and rack the side of my body against the brick walls in the school hallways to toughen myself up for that weekend's mosh pits. WTF?! No wonder my mom got upset when I came home with a chipped tooth one evening. She told me I could still go to shows, but that I shouldn't mosh. I thought, "I just need to wear tougher shit kickers." Now, my 24-hole Docs don't seem as badass as I thought they were in high school. I would wear ratty cut-off jean shorts over green tights and would clomp around in my badass boots, Moral Crux tee on top, with a bright green cardigan and an A-line haircut shooting down just enough to create shy-girl curtains over my eyes. Those were memorable days. Bikini Kill shows in Olympia. Jawbreaker shows in Seattle and Bellingham. Gas Huffer, the Makers and Black Happy shows in Spokane. Rat Fink-styled show posters. Dumpster diving on the weekends for fun. Shooting potatoes out of a homemade PVC-pipe flint-and-steel launcher 40 feet from the car window. Playing bass in Watergirl and Belladonna. Playing clarinet in Polka Down Productions. Buying vinyl. Supporting Estrus Records, Lookout Records, K Records, Sub Pop (when it was cool) and 4,000 Holes, the only cool record store in Spokane. Getting kissed for the first time. Watching "Sid and Nancy" while promoting straight-edge punk ethics. And shoving safety pins through everything.