Why bother being esoteric for esoteric’s sake? I like my mainstream underground bullshit. I like My Chemical Romance, I like AFI, and I’m eagerly anticipating the Taste of Chaos dates in LA. I like my Express Jeans, I like the stickers that I bought at Hot Topic, and I’m going absolutely up the wall waiting for the new Harry Potter book and movie (more on this later in this rant). I think black nail polish and fishnets are always cool and I think platform shoes and/or stompy boots go perfectly with any outfit. The only accessory better than good shoes is a boi in makeup.
I even like Atreyu’s new album.
What’s the big fucking deal? What’s the point in being so goddamn anti-everything that you’re really just another hive mind? You’re so anti the rock thing that you wear t-shirts faded to pastel, too tight jeans, and you spend your day talking about Elliot Smith’s suicide or Daren Aranofsky’s new movie (which has Hugh Jackman of X-Men and Van Helsing fame in it. Indie film cred… out the door.) Or worse yet, they kids who feel they have to deny and bag on all the “trendy” shit that they are afraid to admit they like. Yes, you do like AFI. And you like HIM and Bam Margera and you think the clothes at Hot Topic are cool. Shut up, accept it, and move on with your life.
I’m seriously starting to feel my age because every time I see some whiney post or hear some little shit bitching at Taco Bell about how they hate how everyone is all into Siouxsie and the Banshees and Blondie now I want to grab them by their perfectly sliced haircut and smash their face into the nasty orange tiles while screaming “YOU WERE BORN IN 1992 YOU SHIT! SHUT THE FUCK UP” Fuck, *I* wasn’t even alive when the Banshee’s were big. But I also don’t pretend to like them. (They had four good songs and are almost as overrated as the Bauhaus. Blow me.)
I can’t imagine how bitter I’m going to be in another ten years. My mother has me, on tape, saying “what’s with kids these days?” at age six. If I’ve been bitter since I was a toddler, I’m going to wind up the old lady mowing down middle schoolers in my Little Rascal (a public service if I ever heard of one).
In other news, I totally caved to the Harry Potter Gods. My books have been out on loan since last summer and I can’t take it anymore… so I bought all five. Again. This now marks the 7th time I have bought these fucking books for myself, never mind for other people. J.K., you bitch, you fucking owe me…