From fight the power to pay the power bill

a manifesto of middle age

I grew up in the suburbs in the 1980s.

Back then, skateboarding was against the law.

So if you were like me—of the skateboarding persuasion—you spent a lot of time running from cops.

Skateboard. Spiked hair. Sex Pistols T-Shirt and Ralph Lauren jacket that mom bough, only now covered in safety pins, cheap studs and spikes.

A bunch of bougie boys from the suburbs pretending to be Sid Vicious.

Yes, we were that thick.

Back then, cops were terrible and heroin was cool.

None of us did it. None of us were cool enough to shoot smack.

We saw it on screen but none of use where nihilistic enough to give up on SOCIETY that completely.

Dudes would imply they’d maybe try but, they only do ‘natural drugs’ like weed or mushrooms. Also?—they were “afraid of needles.” Like that was the only thing stopping them.

And the music we listened to?

Public Enemy. Fight the Power!

None of us were fighting the power. Unless the power happened to be a projection of all our flaccid, impotent daddy issues.

Which, let’s be hone…