laurenseditingme

[laurenseditingme]

From the Punk Girl’s Point of View

Ever since I was a little girl I had always dreamed of becoming the essential L.A. business mogul. It wasn’t in the cliche way, but rather because I had a big heart for the city of angels. I grew up right outside of San Diego, in a small, sunny, little suburb. Though being somewhat close to L.A, my yearning for fish tacos was not nearly as strong as it was for music. Once my headbanging, bleach blonde, older sister introduced me to punk rock, my life was forever changed. We would spend countless hours, sipping on cans of cherry coke and complaining about our parents.

Punk rock felt like my first outlet, it opened my eyes to a whole new world that I never knew existed. Spiked hair, rubbery, leather pants, maybe a lip ring or two, this was what punk was to me...at first. Punk wasn’t tied to one group of people, or one group of greasy teens. Punk was for everyone, and there was no subgenre of punk that stressed this more than D.C. punk. To the D.C. scene, punk wasn’t about spiking up your hair or wearing plaid pants with studded suspenders, it was about the attitude. Most D.C. punk guys were fairly normal looking, sporting blue Polo tees, Levi’s, or even a pair of khakis. They were low maintenance. They didn’t care for the fashion aspect, that wasn’t what made them punk. Punk was their life. Their struggles sprawled out into a 2 minute song, with corroded sounding drums and tinny, distorted guitar.

As a San Diego native, my love for D.C. punk was never taken seriously. The preppy trust fund kids with acid wash jackets constantly stared me down. I trekked through my school hallways wearing my withered Germs tee and Converse. Even if I got glaring eyes, I turned my head the other way. It didn’t bother me. I just kept counting down the days until my Senior year was finally over and I would be free to do anything I want. I could travel anywhere. As much as my heart poured for San Diego, it was time for a change in my life. And the second my eighteenth birthday hit, I was ready to spread my punk rock wings and fly away.

“Julie?” My best friend in the whole world, Kristen, clicked her tongue. I could hear it over the phone. We seemed like an unlikely duo, she was more of the straight A, pretty cheerleader type, whereas I was more on the unapproachable side. Kidding. Either way Kristen and I bonded over our boy craziness and the fact that we practically lived two blocks away from each other. Though we shared an affinity with admiring cute guys, we didn’t share that same affinity our tastes in music. Duran Duran, Wham!, and The Police, that was her thing. I once spent an entire week trying to convince her to listen to one Minor Threat song. Salad Days? Why is it called that? Are they singing about salad? She didn’t care for it too much.

I responded back, “Hey Kristen! Did you watch SNL last night? I heard the musical guest was Lou Reed!” I was joking, I knew she wasn’t into the Velvet Underground, or Lou’s music in general. “Gag me.” Kristen deadpanned back, I could practically feel her eyes rolling. “Why do you listen to that crap anyways? It’s so lame. Don’t you want to listen to something fun and upbeat?” I laughed to myself, Kristen had a way with words. “Oh please, I do listen to upbeat music! Sometimes...” I trailed off. Come to think about it, she was right. The songs I listened to could be downright depressing. Depressing or political.

Kristen scoffed, “Yeah right, like The Smiths? Don’t they make the saddest music ever? That guy Morrisey is always singing about wanting to die.” I pressed my lips together, she stumped me there. “Uh, well, he’s just...okay fine you’re right. Maybe I do need to lighten up my music taste.” I chuckled, there was no chance I was going to do that, but I knew Kristen hearing me say this would make her day.

“You’re being sarcastic.” Kristen said blankly. She caught me. “You’ve known me for way too long.” I stated, as my lips curled into a smile. Then Kristen dropped the news on me.

She cleared her throat and popped the gum she was chewing on, “So that band Scream you’re always talking about? You know that drummer guy, uh what did you say his name was?” Kristen stated this nonchalantly as if I didn’t talk her ear off about Scream everyday as we would trudge the tiled, school hallways together. I tried my best not to freak out like a banshee. With a dumb smile on my face I replied, “Uh, yeah! Dave Grohl you mean?” I tried to sound as chill as possible, but even Kristen could tell I sounded like a nervous wreck at the mention of his name. I had a big crush on him. He was exactly my type in every sense of the word. Long hair, slightly tall and a bit scrawny, plus, he was a drummer, so what more could I ask for? Kristen chuckled as she heard the way I responded, “Mhm. Yep. Well about him, my uncle, Tom, is apparently his friend or something. Honestly though, I think my uncle is just scared to say he’s a roadie.” Kristen laughs and I freeze.

Her uncle is friends with Dave? Should I pinch myself? I looked nervously down at my french nails that Kristen had done, she wanted to be a nail tech. I nodded slowly and shook my head, my dark brown locks falling in front of my deep set eyes. “You’re joking. Are you serious?” I replied with a tinge of skepticism. Was Kristen being serious? I mean, we joke around a lot, but this is so specific it can’t be fake. I scratched the bridge of my nose and twirled the beige, AT&T phone cord around my finger. “Girl, we’ve been friends for so long, you think I would make this up? I know you have a huge crush on him...so get excited.”

Julie giggled with an ulterior motive. Uh oh. Get excited? My mind spins. “No way. Kristen, if you're about to say what I think you’re gonna say, I’m hanging up.” She chuckled with amusement and said, “Well my uncle knows you’re into photography, and the band wants someone to take pictures at their next show. So I kind of, sort of got him to get you set up with them. My uncle said Dave sounded excited knowing there was someone his age taking the pictures.” She knew exactly what she was doing when she said that. My heart dropped into my stomach and my nervous system went haywire. My gut instinct was to think this was a cruel joke, but I don't think she was lying this time. I could tell by the tone of her voice that this was no joke, I let it sink in. I’m going to be at Scream’s next show taking pictures. I went from twirling the rubbery phone cord to a piece of my wavy hair.

Dave sounded excited. Those words rang in my head like a loud, metallic gong. I wanted to launch out a fury of excited curse words but I pursed my lips. “Right. So this is why you called me then? You wanted to dump this grand news on me? I can’t believe this! Kristen, I swear I owe you for life. Do you know if Dave has a girlfriend?” I blurted the last sentence out, I’m getting too presumptuous. I quickly laughed and smiled. “Oh! I mean like, just in a curious way, I’m totally just curious.” Kristen was sweet enough to laugh at my word vomit, she sighed and replied, “Girl, what am I gonna do with you? Try your best not to freak when meeting them, and please tell me how it goes! And trust me, Dave will love you.” I rolled my eyes jokingly and said, “Oh jeez. Don’t give me false hope! What if he thinks I’m a total geek?” Kristen responded with a chuckle as I scratched the back of my head. “Stop, you’re gonna be fine. And from my knowledge, Dave doesn’t have a girlfriend.” I can feel her sly smile through the phone.

Kristen continues, “Jules, trust me, you’re like, a totally pretty chick from San Diego. If he doesn’t fall for you then that would be an American tragedy. You’re like, the quintessential Cali girl, he will love you.” She’s encouraging me, which is sweet, but again, I can’t give myself false hope. I nod and smile to myself, saying,“Thanks Kristen, you’re sweet for saying that. But I can’t just go and be all over him, I have to be somewhat professional right? I guess.” I shrug. I don’t even have a real photography job or anything. This is totally freelance.

I almost forgot to ask the most crucial question of this conversation, my Dave Grohl brain rot was already taking over. “Oh! Um, where’s the show anyway? Is it in D.C. or is Tom taking me over to the venue or something?” Kristen gnawed her gum pensively for a moment and then answered, “It’s out in L.A. actually, and yeah my uncle will take you. Duh. I mean you can’t walk to L.A. from San Diego...right?” I loved Kristen. She could crack me up over the smallest things. I smile to myself and say, “Duh. See? This is why I need a car. But hey, again, thank you Kristen, I seriously owe you big for this. I mean this is major for me, I love you!” I shake my head in disbelief of what just happened. I’m finally going to be pursuing my dream. Maybe I will be that L.A. business mogul. Dave being there is just an added bonus. “You got it. Love you too. And good luck out in L.A. But, if you end up loving it and staying there, don’t forget to call me!” Kristen jokes. I will never forget. I giggle, “Okay! I could never forget you Kristen, so no need to worry. Now...what should I wear?”

Two years later, December 1991

I shiver, pacing back and forth through a steamy alleyway. My thin jacket is barely enough to bundle me up from the Seattle winter breeze. I look down at my knobby knees and take a drag from my cigarette, carefully placing it between my lips. I gazed at the metal door, my cheeks, rosy red and my dark hair blowing in all directions. I need to get back in there. I dropped my cigarette to the ground, the wet pavement making it soggy instantly. I stomped it with my boot and reluctantly headed back into the studio. I’m 19 now. And funnily enough, I still feel like an immature 17 year old. At least I’m surrounded by guys who act like immature 17 year olds, wreaking havoc everywhere they go and I was always left to pick up the pieces. Lucky me.

I wandered back into the studio and met Dave’s eyes. His expression instantly lit up and he rushed over to hug me. His slim, tattooed arms pulled me into a warm embrace. He laughed and put his chin on my shoulder. Dave says, “Where have you been, missy? I’ve been wondering where my favorite chick is. I don’t know what we’d do without you Jules, seriously. You keep us in line more than our managers. And that’s saying something.” Dave flashes a grin and pulls from the hug, looking down at me and tapping his index finger on my forehead. He sighs, “What’s going on up here Jules?”

I had a slight, glum look on my face. He almost had some kind of sixth sense when it came to detecting how I was feeling. I sigh too and look up at him, saying, “I’m not sure, I mean, you guys are getting so popular with your new album and I’m worried your label wants to replace me as your photographer. They want one of those flashy, business guys.” I shake my head and my eyes downcast. His expression immediately softens, but with a hint of anger in his eyes. He tilts my chin up and looks at me, “Jules. They’re not going to replace you, okay? First of all, you’re the only person I’d ever want to photograph us. Some stupid business guy isn’t gonna replace you. You think some big shot can make me and the guys laugh as much as you or make me as happy as you? I’m not letting our label replace you. That’s not happening.” I shake my head and smile. Dave always gives me this look. The look when he’s being truly serious about something, his brown eyes have an intense twinge of determination.

He tilts his head and looks down at me, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear reassuringly. He grins slightly and says, “I won’t let them get rid of my best friend.” That’s right, best friend. Exactly two years ago when I headed out to L.A. for that Scream show, Kristen’s assumptions were right.

As soon as I got to the crowded, sweaty venue with her uncle, Tom, his hand gripping mine as he pulled me through the crowd and to the backstage area, Dave’s eyes instantly lit up upon seeing me. He looked a little nervous, I remember. He was wearing this oversized black tee and jeans. He stuck out his hand for me to shake, and after chatting and a little bit of underaged drinking, we were instant friends. Though we had our flirty moments, our dynamic never really stepped across the boundaries of a friendship.

Ever since that infamous night, we’ve been bonded at the hip. I ended up going on tour with Scream, getting into those kinds of hijinx you see in teen movies. Sneaking into hotel pools, and all that. It was like a typical teen rebellion saga, except Dave and I were the only teens. His bandmates already had beer guts and were in their early or mid twenties. That didn’t phase Dave and I though, we were kind of the pack leaders.

In response to what Dave said, I poked his side and grinned, saying, “I trust you. I’ll try not to worry about it.” I beamed and tousled his dark brown, tangly hair. He rolled his eyes, smiling, and tussling my hair right back. I chuckled and patted his back, stating, “Okay Virgina boy, let's go!” He chuckles and grabs my shoulders in return, gently pushing me forward from behind, whispering, “You first Cali girl.” He flashed me a cheesy grin and I jabbed him with my bony elbow. I groaned jokingly, “Fine.” With Dave in tow, we both walked back into the studio. As soon as I stepped foot back into the recording room, I saw my favorite blonde cynicist. Kurt Cobain. Sitting next to him on the torn leather couch was the 6’7 giant, Krist Novoselic. Two of my best friends.

Krist raises an eyebrow at me and snickers, “Hey punky, were you and Dave making out again?” Though I loved Krist, he was the most sarcastic sardonic you’ve ever met. He ran his fingers through his stringy brown hair and laughed. I gritted my teeth, “Shut up!” My ring covered fingers picked up a striped pillow and launched it at his head, laughing. Krist caught the pillow with his calloused, bass playing fingers and threw it right back.

I ducked, and soon enough it became a full on pillow war. Dave and Kurt joined in soon after, all of us getting up to our usual shenanigans. This was just a normal day for me. I still couldn’t help but think how insane it is, how this all happened for me. Out of any San Diego chick, any girl with tats, a nose ring, and an addiction to tanning could’ve been in my place. But it was me. I was the lucky girl. My whole life changed its trajectory from one phone call. One simple phone call from Kristen. I still call her on occasion, I made that promise to her anyways. The phone calls tend to be sappy and emotional, her saying how proud she is of me and then blabbering about her co-workers at the nail salon. The usual.

Most people in my circle consider me the unspoken fourth Nirvana member. I don't think about that though. I’m just proud to be in the position I’m in. I pretty much have the best job in the biz, I get paid to goof off with my best friends. As for my unrequited love for Dave, hardy har har, who knows what the future holds? I don’t see myself separating from his hip anytime soon. After what we’ve been through in the past two years, I couldn’t imagine us losing our bond. Romantically, there may be a little something there. But I’m not gonna push anything. I’ll always have a special place in my heart for the Virgina punk rock drummer.

After settling our pillow fight, the guys all decide to act their age for once, and get to recording. As Kurt and Krist go to set up their instruments, a Fender and an Ibanez, Dave pats me on the shoulder. “Thanks for sticking around, Jules. But next time Krist makes fun of you, I’m defending you. Got it?” Dave states in a teasingly serious manner, looking into my eyes for approval. I immediately eye roll, “Okay macho man.” I tease. He just pats me on the head in response, he grins, saying, “You’re welcome Julie.” He smiles sweetly at me, before heading over to set up his drum set, sitting hunched over, he picks up his Vic Firth sticks. He winks, mouthing, “Watch this.” Nevermind was out already and topping the alternative charts.

Apathetic teens all over the world found music that could suit their bleak views. I was a part of the movement. I was a part of the movement that defined a generation. My brown eyes scanned across the mixing table, every button, knob, and fader lined perfectly next to each other. I looked back up at my favorite people in the world.

A lanky Dave with ratted, dark brown hair, a thin Kurt with his short, tangled blonde hair, and standing at 6 '7 with a grin, Krist. I nod over at Dave and smile, he laughs and gives me a thumbs up. Just as they’re about to start, Dave stops chewing his gum and swallows, mouthing over to me, “Wanna hang after this?” He raises an eyebrow to make me laugh. I chuckle and cross my arms, offering an enthusiastic smile, “Of course.”