Friday, January 16, 2015


So I write everyday now because if I am not writing I am surfing the net and wasting my time. I have to care for my kids and family first and foremost but writing comes next. I try to write when I am sick, tired and have nothing to say, which seems to be everyday right now. Just keep flexing that muscle Holly.

Today I was remembering going to Danceteria as a teen. My experience of the place was so different from the legend. We would go up to the doorperson and say that we were on the list and make up a name. He (I have no idea who it was) would check and say we were not on the list. Then we would sit on a car parked right in front of the club and wait. What else was there to do?
In a bit he would shoo us inside, slightly irritated, certainly not joyously. My style was working class punk at the time, not goth and not glamorous. I wore plaid plants with worker’s boots and a grey plaid overcoat and had self-cut, spikey hair that was far from cool for a while it was platinum so that helped. I admired the very put together Goths with their amazing hair and black patent high heels but that was not my style and I did not have the money to go to Hair Power and get that great cut or extensions. I wouldn’t have minded that opportunity, but I did not experience it. I loved how everyone had either black hair or white hair. Very little in between.
Anyway, whatever our style, it did not hurt that we were young and cute enough. We would get in free and see the Pogues, the Replacements, Lydia Lunch, whoever. Sometimes we would sit on couches hoping to see the True Men Don’t Kill Coyotes video by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. It was their first video and the singer, topless, smooth, high maybe, looked hot to me and my friend, Sitting and waiting was the only way to see it. Where else would it be shown? Sitting through all kinds of boring avant garde stuff. Anyway, there was nothing else to do.
I was there in the height of that scene. I was there all the time. Snowy walks home down 5th ave, warm summer nights on the rooftop, seeing people having weeknight sex through their purposely open windows. I never noticed Madonna hanging out. She was not on my radar.  Never noticed a lot of the peeps who hung out there or worked there. We were in our own punk world. Going there just because, getting a free drink at an open bar now and then and maybe hearing Alternative Ulster by Stiff Little Fingers loud over the PA in an emptied out room at 3:45. What else was there to do?

No comments:

Post a Comment