Punk Rock Doc

New documentary “SpokAnarchy!” discussed in the Seattle Weekly. Wonder if Netflix will pick it up so Todd can force me to watch it.

Nothing ends a tour faster than a burning Econoline van - spokanarchy.com

Mark Motherfuckin’ Mothersbaugh

Words fail me in the face of this much awesome.

It takes a lot of energy

…to stay pissed off for 30+ years.

I got something to say

…I fed my kitty today. I think of you whenever I go to petsmart for chew-eez, Glen.

John Lydon

Your hair is more terrifying than ever.

Why Aging Punks?

In 2009 I fell in love with a veteran punk rocker who hailed from Oregon by way of Seattle and San Francisco. We ended up in the same New Orleans bar on a random weeknight. “Who is this creepy skinny balding leather-wearing guy, and why is he staring at me?” I thought.  He promptly sat down right next to me and pulled out photos of his kids. He downed countless vodka-tonics without getting drunk. He knew everything about anything I was interested in. He had an impressively severe nose. He was snarky and razor-sharp. He offered to give me DJ lessons. HE TRIED TO HOLD MY HAND. Not make out, not feel me up, but hold my hand. And that was the beginning of the end…we got married about a year later, after a bit of a bumpy start—it wouldn’t have been Todd if we’d done things the easy way. He is the most difficult and most brilliant man I’ve ever met.

Being married to a REAL punk rocker(TM) is a strange experience for a much-younger artsy goth chick. Suddenly finding myself shacked up with Todd, I also found myself thinking about aging within subcultures. Aging is weird, bittersweet, and funny. But when leather and spikes and rebellion meet parenting, housekeeping, and paying the bills, utter hilarity ensues.

You’re only as old as you feel.