Now because of this blonde mop
that’s on top
of this fucked-up head that I’ve got
I’ve gone pop?
–Eminem, “Marshall Mathers”
The 17 year old me would probably dislike the 32 year old me. I’m a teacher (a job I never dreamed of doing) who doesn’t drive (after all that time I spent fighting to get a license) and my taste in music has gone pop. I am the sell-out I never wanted to be. A bougie-ass white bread borderline yuppie piece of shit who wears khakis and argyle sweaters and owns an honest-to-god suit.
I teach because I need money. I can’t drive because I’m blind. But the music thing? That’s harder to explain.
See, I was all hard rock, punk, and hardcore rap when I was in high school. I had Rage Against the Machine on blast (when my mom wasn’t around), and I knew all the words to Ghostface Killah’s “Wildflower” (Yo, bitch, I fucked your friend/ Yeah, you stank ho…) and I wanted to name my kids after Eddie Vedder. I hated boy bands and country and anything uptempo and bright. I was probably depressed.
Then I got married and grew up. Part of being in an adult relationship, it seems, is not playing songs that ask Remenber when I long-dicked you and broke your ovaries? (sorry Ghostface). And I’m not as brooding, not as into the minor-key depression stuff. I need to get through the day, do my job, feed the kids–not cry myself to sleep in my room at 4 in the afternoon. Nor do I want to bring down the American government. I am a cog in the Machine now.
Rock kind of sucks now. Nickelback sells a ton, and I can’t think of a punk band post-2002 that’s interested me. And hardcore rap has gone more toward Prada than gangsta.
Or maybe it’s just that my palate has expanded. There’s no peer group shaming me away from Katy Perry or telling me that the Avett Brothers are too country or that I can’t like fun.’s Some Nights because it’s pop. Those people still exist, and they rant on Facebook, but fuck them. Their opinions are irrelevant to my life. I’ve found someone to carry me home tonight…