Sure, I’ve got a brown paper bag over my head with holes punched in the sides for my Sony Walkman, & the eyes are drawn on with orange & blue chalk, just casual circles so you can’t look directly into my eyes. That’s what high school is like these days. The world is too big. I only like my friends to look into my eyes. So for the rest of Gr. 13 I’m studying Lou Reed, taking him more seriously perhaps than he takes himself; The Cure, The Smiths, Jane’s Addiction, Iggy Pop singing about Dog Food dog food dog food. Someone lays down a simple drum&bass line, & you start tapping your foot, moving your body to the music. Learning about reality as we go into the 90s. Sometimes these simple images lift up & swirl like exploding chickens & beat their blood-stained wings against the folded walls of my brown paper bag; or, in a different mood, Living Color appear with all that great avant vivid jazz-funk flair or Sinéad O’Connor comes on & settles things down.
