Currently Listening Want One By Rufus Wainwright Natasha see related

Several weeks ago I was required to write an observation paper for my english course. I found myself in Dothan soon after receiving the assignment in search of interviews and stories that would intertwine to create a memorable and ,as it would happen, a rather bizarre paper.

This is an excerpt from that piece.

To understand the monumental impact the scene kid had on Wired, one must first understand the devilish being himself. The name “scene kid” comes from the idea that certain individuals are consumed by fitting into and helping to create an atmosphere that compliments a certain bands style and music, thus creating a “scene.” Generally, the proponent of the scene does not frequent the bands current venue and therefore has little or no respect for the establishment or its patrons (vandalizing property, stealing, refusing to pay a cover charge, etc.).

First came the death-metal scene. On nights when this intense version of metal took the stage the mosh pits were gothic seas of black eyeliner and bondage pants. Metal scene kids were younger than the fans of other genres. Largely in their early teen years, these scene-sters were fatalistic and angsty. In the beginning they were rather harmless but they developed a large following and began to present some opposition to the peace-loving, life-honoring culture the patrons had created.

The emo and punk scenes came close at the heels of the death metal group. Emo kids are notoriously depressed. It is part of the upkeep of their image to weep and discuss things they have lost or can never have. Emaciated with poorly cut hair, emo kids brought not only a general malaise to the shop but the substances they used to treat their ever-deepening emotional wounds.

                                          from "The Great Coffee Commune"

Props to the devilish scene kids....my paper would be nothing without your antics.

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Currently Reading Safety of Objects (Vintage Contemporaries) By A.M. Homes see related

Denouement, in literature, is the portion at the end of a story just after the tale's climax. It is in the denouement that characters find peace about their struggles and return to an existence free from inner and external turmoil. Directly translated in its language of origin, French, it means "to untie."

There's the background. Here's the story.

Today I am a grown-up, a big girl, a solitary being. The maturation occurred quickly and with the aid of a great deal of ink.

My short time on earth has been permeated by the struggle for parental acceptance. Each slightly controversial action has been prefaced with the question “What would mom say?” I suppose when this inquiry, this “disease to please” first began it had its benefits. But I found, in my last few months under parental reign, that each passing day those profits mirrored Enron and HealthSouth earnings, inflated and ultimately, bankrupted.

Now in college, basking in my new found liberation, I discover that I am faced with my own collection of queries. What are my limits and how do I go about testing them? Without the status quo created by some superior, I have only my own inhibitions to consider. Whom shall I rebel against when I am merely answering to myself?

Six hours ago I participated in the first act of dissent against self. No more than a quarter of a day has passed since I allowed myself to endure the excruciating pain of being branded for life. I now stand before you with one less boundary and a tattoo.

The concept of filling the space on my lower back with ink was first considered some five months ago. Often the desire to “mutilate my flesh” could be conquered by laments over insufficient funds or consequences unleashed by parents. But a short time ago I found myself without either. So it was that I had to overcome the idea of the pain and permanence that had barred my journey to more artful skin.

Wordy bitch, she’s gettin’ a fuckin’ literary term. I bet she listened in those English classes I fuckin’ slept through. But, really, a tattoo artist doesn’t need a shit load of English smarts. Is that with one “e” or two?

Painful, it most definitely was, and it is, unquestionably, enduring. But I had trudged through “incomparable pain” in the past and I was looking for a long term “relationship.” I will now forever be able to look in the mirror and see the word that encapsulates the moment in a novel when peace is discovered and the drama of the climax has subsided. “Denouement” has now, quite literally, made its mark on me.

After my mini revolution had run its course I paid, learned about the healing process of my carefully chosen scar, and shook hands with the man who had changed the scenery of my back forever. Accomplished and slightly hunched from the bandaging, I walked to my car. When I arrived home I removed my dressing and found a “rebirth mark,” a mark that readily lent itself to the purchasing of low rise jeans and a gathering of words that I have not altogether rid myself of -“What would mom say?”

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