Entry 0048: A Snotful of Free Write


LP: Young, Loud, and Snotty by the Dead Boys

1977 Sire Records SR 6038, promo

Favorite Track: I Need Lunch (You can give me flak for loving a song with offending lyrics but I don’t take them seriously. I love the music most of all and see the lyrics as a snapshot of teenage male frustration, although not expressed maturely, is a raw emotional response.)

 Before I get to brainstorming certain scenes of the novel I am working on, I will write about the Dead Boys. One thing I am trying to do more with this blog is add a section about each album I select. If I had a time machine, I would easily go back in time to see the Dead Boys. I’ve seen a whole concert at CBGB’s on YouTube and it was amazing. They scream pure frantic energy. They sing danger. They play like they were battling a horde of orcs with their instruments. I would love to see every 70’s and early 80’s punk/post-punk/hardcore/art-rock bands, but the Dead Boys would be one of the first. When I first heard Young, Loud, and Snotty, my mind was blown. I had not expected its explosive power. I had not expected to like every track. I think this album was the beginning of my comprehension not to underestimate any of those early punk bands. Something magical happen at that time in the world of music. It may not be for everyone, but it has kept me spellbound for 32 years. Although, technically, I didn’t hear original punk music until approximately 1997ish so, revising the last sentence, kept me spellbound for 18 years.

Now to some creative writing:

 They caught up with him before he could squeeze through the fence leading into the construction zone. They pulled him back by his jacket, pinned his arms to his side. A lean youth with a snaggletooth grin twisted some fiber optic cable around his ankles while humming a musical refrain. The song was hauntingly familiar but outside of Zach’s recall. He wasn’t experiencing dread, but resignation. Did he want to be captured? Zach could smell the excitement and grease. A gob of spit landed on his cheek and there was a scuffle broke out around him and the snaggletooth teen landed on his back from a solid punch to the face. A barrel-chested man wearing an open jean jacket, black boots, and a ripped pair of riding pants turned his shrewd close-set eyes toward him. The frown lifted.

“I’ve seen you before.”

Zach slid his tongue around his mouth. His molars were intact.

“Nobody here really cares who you are. What you are now. I can see you are one of them. Dr. Kauffman’s loyal no-wave. You probably don’t remember us.”

Zach looked at the dirty faces and the curious eyes. They seemed a pack of wild animals and yet, they had done nothing to him save immobilizing him. Violence only as a necessity, but a necessity to what? They did call him a no-wave, a brain burnout. They probably saw the Black Widow jack built into the back of his neck and assumed. But assumed correctly.

“We talked before you erased your memories. Don’t you remember me? Captain Insensible.”

The rough man held out a callused hand. All of the fingers had metallic rings around them. Zach smiled at the ironic gesture and managed to shrug his shoulders. Captain Insensible laughed but did not tell his gang to let go. He looked at the never completed high-rise as if expecting someone to still be pounding nails into the wall. Then he shook his head.

From above dropped a piece of highway that smashed into the playground two miles south of the construction zone. Everyone but Zach and Captain Insensible looked around nervously. A cloud of dust billowed against the orange horizon like an ashen flower.

The snaggletooth stood up and dusted his black pants. “Why are we wasting our time with him? He doesn’t know where the Black Widow is. He’s worthless.”

“No body is worthless, Snitch. His brain is not destroyed in the way Dr. Kauffman proposed. All of those memories Zach here is forgetting are still in that brain of his. He has just lost the ability to find them.”

Captain Insensible smiled.

“We can always extract them.”



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