Teenage dirtbag

I was just musing over on Honest Faith where Barry has a funny post about backward masking - you know, the hidden "Satanic" messages on albums by heathens like Iron Maiden and the like? It's quite amusing.

I was pondering in the comments about the backward masking on Uncanny X-Men's EP Salive One which, if you played it backwards on your turntable said "This needle is f#^@ing your record". Which I always found quite amusing, and I still do.

Uncanny X-Men. I loved Brian Mannix so much. I cried myself to sleep over him every night for over a year. I caught the train to Oak Park, went to his house, took home the hair from off his moulting dog. Took home some leaves that had fallen off his tree. Brian was a 24-year-old still living at home with Jack and Elga. Jack bemusedly was out in his garage. Elga had a sign in the front window saying, "Brian is in Adelaide". Presumably so 14 year olds didn't come knocking on the door asking where Brian was all the time.

So anyway, we knocked on the front door. She was so lovely :) We chatted with her about her adoring son. I even think from memory she gave us a signed photo - was that right, Andi?

We went to 3XY one night and sat out the front waiting for Brian. He was a regular on 3XY. They catered to the teen market, definitely. I still remember the smell of his leather jacket as I hurtled myself across Kings Way and into his arms. Poor thing. I could have killed him. (And myself). What a dick :)

Ahhh, teenage obsession. I wouldn't be 15 years old for all the tea in China, Ceylon and Pakistan put together. What a shit time that was :)

Anyway, this is all pure procrastination, putting off the reading I have to do for this afternoon's class, which is all about 'The performed life - critical approaches to life writing'. I have had somewhere in the vicinity of 5 or less hours' sleep, so I will either rabbit on at my usual pace or I will be a crumpled ball in the corner.