Black Mass Lucifer - Keepin' the Scene Alive
- West Allis, 18Apr09
West Allis is a throwback. Not by choice, but by necessary intelligent design. It has nowhere else to go. Its past is scarred with one story brick shanties clad in cheap plastic, rusted out 100 acre facilities, and masses of unwanted human resource. Through the stagnant air, once a welcome and comfortable atmosphere for all sorts of highly sought toxic clouds, some people maintain a clear vision.
These people spend their evening in wretched places like Smokin' Joes, which makes the arrogant promise of "hot chick. sandwiches." This is not a joke. Most people appear to have been the same age for 20 years. Not that they look youthful, but they just haven't changed. Even people in their 20's fall under this umbrella. This forces me to admit my living in, and looking like, the past. I'm not embarrassed, but am disappointed. I thought I was doing better in terms of modernity.
To get away from this, and in looking optimistically towards the future, its only in places like this that a person can witness a Judas Priest cover band, in this case The Hellion. A Rob Halford look alike is nothing to fear they say, but they are wrong. The Halford look alikes bring the truth forth in West Allis. On this night it came in the form of "Rocker Boy," who is clearly not a boy anymore, but is also clearly the leader of cult, much like Children of the Corn's Malachi, but not plotting to be, or even summons, Satan and his unholy posse. He comes complete with over-patched jean jacket and permanent marker name tag on collar: Rocker Boy. He aims to settle his scores by bringing back all hair band, even though he himself has shaved his head. You know he's going to strike up conversation with you depending on your shirt, and you know you're going to have to come up with an excuse to leave during awkward silence, lest you be willing to get sucked in. He is the symbol of the strength for what's left of West Allis, the symbol of freedom, the symbol of humble lifestyles and American pie. He lives in each of us, yet he himself lives through Cinderella. He's nobody's fool. Live on West Allis, live on.
Overall, he's a good guy, I just can't talk too much about the shirts I wear. It's similar to saying to a classmate you haven't seen in 10 years: "So, what are you up to now?" With that said, please feel free to ask me about my shirts, as I also have the compulsive need to explain them, the former sentence was to indicate to people that I am in fact, wearing the shirts ironically.
Rocker Boy
West Allis is a throwback. Not by choice, but by necessary intelligent design. It has nowhere else to go. Its past is scarred with one story brick shanties clad in cheap plastic, rusted out 100 acre facilities, and masses of unwanted human resource. Through the stagnant air, once a welcome and comfortable atmosphere for all sorts of highly sought toxic clouds, some people maintain a clear vision.
These people spend their evening in wretched places like Smokin' Joes, which makes the arrogant promise of "hot chick. sandwiches." This is not a joke. Most people appear to have been the same age for 20 years. Not that they look youthful, but they just haven't changed. Even people in their 20's fall under this umbrella. This forces me to admit my living in, and looking like, the past. I'm not embarrassed, but am disappointed. I thought I was doing better in terms of modernity.
To get away from this, and in looking optimistically towards the future, its only in places like this that a person can witness a Judas Priest cover band, in this case The Hellion. A Rob Halford look alike is nothing to fear they say, but they are wrong. The Halford look alikes bring the truth forth in West Allis. On this night it came in the form of "Rocker Boy," who is clearly not a boy anymore, but is also clearly the leader of cult, much like Children of the Corn's Malachi, but not plotting to be, or even summons, Satan and his unholy posse. He comes complete with over-patched jean jacket and permanent marker name tag on collar: Rocker Boy. He aims to settle his scores by bringing back all hair band, even though he himself has shaved his head. You know he's going to strike up conversation with you depending on your shirt, and you know you're going to have to come up with an excuse to leave during awkward silence, lest you be willing to get sucked in. He is the symbol of the strength for what's left of West Allis, the symbol of freedom, the symbol of humble lifestyles and American pie. He lives in each of us, yet he himself lives through Cinderella. He's nobody's fool. Live on West Allis, live on.
Overall, he's a good guy, I just can't talk too much about the shirts I wear. It's similar to saying to a classmate you haven't seen in 10 years: "So, what are you up to now?" With that said, please feel free to ask me about my shirts, as I also have the compulsive need to explain them, the former sentence was to indicate to people that I am in fact, wearing the shirts ironically.
Rocker Boy
Labels: actuary science, biological undertones, dreamline, fire resistance, grandma's house, Milky Way, my house, over your hills, Tide, West Allis, western dreams, your house
posted by fiestawizard at 7:06 PM
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