In less then two months will come the 30th anniversary of our high school graduation. We find ourselves thinking of that time more and more. So we're gonna go Thursday Downer this Friday morn with some pointless nostalgia.
We'll be damned if we can't feel the distant pull of memory. You know what we mean?
The spring of 1992 was pleasant. We remember a lot of sun. After a titanic, Cuban Missile Crisis style standoff with the school bully, who looked like he came right out of Good Fella's, fuckin' greaseball, things calmed down. We pursued a girl, unsuccessfully (we're friends on FB).
We were cynical and fed up after a lousy and disappointing year. We were doing as little as possible in school and graduated 104 out of 136. We didn't bother with the prom. Our silent and unnoticed protest at what? A terrible year, we guess.
We can't remember what we were reading, other than Ian Slater's WWIII novels. Oh, Harold Coyle put out his war with Mexico novel. Very average. We listened to Queen's A Kind of Magic a lot, U-2's Achtung Baby, and also, no surprise here, Def Leppard Adrenalize. We were a shorts and T-shirts kind of guy. We recall a white Wesley College T-Shirt, a grey Roger Williams College T-Shirt, a lot of cloth shorts and jean shorts.
It sounds boring, because it was boring. It was the anti-climactic end to a failed period of our life.
High school was the worst four years of my life I was having pstd from high school while in combat with the Marines one of the biggest reasons I volunteered to go infranty was I was so damaged from the Girls at my high school I think I was turned down by everyone that I really just wanted to die but knew suicide was wrong but firgue the Marines would send me someplace I could die and at least I would die for something even to this day I don't have nightmares about my time in combat it's still nightmares from the Girls in my high school
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