Back around summer 1991, I went to an alternative concert festival called Lollapalooza. I wasn't keen on politics, but they had some kick ass bands playing. I was only about 18 at the time, and I liked to get wasted and do stupid sh*t as much as the next kid. Being that age, I had it all figured out and knew us young people were cool and had great ideas while older adults were just old fashioned killjoys who were out of touch and too controlling... you know the attitude.
So they had all kinds of booths and displays and it was about 110 degrees and the bands were rockin and people were jammin. I was amongst the mass of tatooed, mohawked, pierced, bodies thrashing and talking about their pet causes and enlightened observations. A major theme running through the conversations was non-conformity. I immediately couldn't help but notice 99% of these people had on the same black Doc Martin style combat boots. I thought it best to move along before I was accused of the grievous sin of patronizing, and left that particular group of postmodern hippies before I got in the way of their trying to forge a superior culture.
I kicked back with my girlfriend for a while and took in all the messaged clothing... slogans and statements were scrawled everywhere imaginable. Most of it was the usual suspects of pro-drug, anti-death penalty, anti-war, anti-censorship, pro-sex type stuff, although there were a few seemingly random and unintelligble pronouncements like the headband that simply said "Reagancide" and a hat saying "Fugazi States of unAmerica". Perhaps the most interesting one was a shirt worn by some anorexic chick that said "Less killing, More fvcking"... now that seemed like a group I could hang with, but that was about the time Nine Inch Nails' equipment started melting and going haywire on stage. Trent Reznor flew into a rage and destroyed a couple keyboards and amps before storming off the platform.
Everyone was pretty bummed about what just happened, but people's attention around me turned to a small blaze to the left- an American flag. One dude couldn't restrain himself any longer and bolted for the smoldering heap, dancing a bonified jig on the ashes. One guy, stoned out of his gourd on a blanket next to me sat droop-faced in a stupor, never taking his eyes off the mad dance. Finally he blinked and said with great unemotion: "That was just wrong." That was about the time I had an out of body experience, like I was up above watching myself and things around me. It was a surreal first step in a political awakening.
So they had all kinds of booths and displays and it was about 110 degrees and the bands were rockin and people were jammin. I was amongst the mass of tatooed, mohawked, pierced, bodies thrashing and talking about their pet causes and enlightened observations. A major theme running through the conversations was non-conformity. I immediately couldn't help but notice 99% of these people had on the same black Doc Martin style combat boots. I thought it best to move along before I was accused of the grievous sin of patronizing, and left that particular group of postmodern hippies before I got in the way of their trying to forge a superior culture.
I kicked back with my girlfriend for a while and took in all the messaged clothing... slogans and statements were scrawled everywhere imaginable. Most of it was the usual suspects of pro-drug, anti-death penalty, anti-war, anti-censorship, pro-sex type stuff, although there were a few seemingly random and unintelligble pronouncements like the headband that simply said "Reagancide" and a hat saying "Fugazi States of unAmerica". Perhaps the most interesting one was a shirt worn by some anorexic chick that said "Less killing, More fvcking"... now that seemed like a group I could hang with, but that was about the time Nine Inch Nails' equipment started melting and going haywire on stage. Trent Reznor flew into a rage and destroyed a couple keyboards and amps before storming off the platform.
Everyone was pretty bummed about what just happened, but people's attention around me turned to a small blaze to the left- an American flag. One dude couldn't restrain himself any longer and bolted for the smoldering heap, dancing a bonified jig on the ashes. One guy, stoned out of his gourd on a blanket next to me sat droop-faced in a stupor, never taking his eyes off the mad dance. Finally he blinked and said with great unemotion: "That was just wrong." That was about the time I had an out of body experience, like I was up above watching myself and things around me. It was a surreal first step in a political awakening.
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