SOME SWEET MINUTES
#1 IGGY#IGGY ❽
My brother Kevin and I preening in the bathroom mirror, shoulder to shoulder, shirtless. He wore black chinos and fingered his close-cropped hair into spikes, aided by dabs of the raw egg he’d cracked into a bowl. ‘The Blank Generation’ by Richard Hell and the Voidoids blared from his bedroom. ❽
“Such a vantastic line,” he said, rubbing Speed Stick into his armpits (he pronounced it with more v than f). ❽
“What?” I asked. ❽
“I was sayin’ let me outta here before I was even born.” ❽
It was the first day back at school, Kevin in his sophomore year at Agoura High, me in eighth grade at Lindero Canyon. In our heads we carried The Damned, Sex Pistols, Iggy Pop, Ramones, X, and Circle Jerks. We were not happy about school. It wasn’t so much the academic part as the people. Summer had given us a respite from the cliques and the kooks. 8
Our parents seemed okay with our newfound love of punk. That was more Kevin’s doing than mine. “It’s about self-expression and individuality and keeping your integrity,” he explained to them. “It’s philosophical. It’s actually high-minded if you really get into it. And optimistic, too.” This made
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