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| Earning your black wings... |
| Roy Starin |
Hi everyone. I just couldn't resist banging out a quick editorial on 666 day, so here you go. And since I can't really find any good death metal to write about, I will tell a quick story about my introduction to the almighty heavy metal.
I grew up in Norwalk, and I used to spend my summers at my grandma's pad. Well, my grandma lived about three houses down from James Hetfield's grandma (or aunt or something), and there was a kid my age that lived there that I used to hang out with. Between mammoth Atari 2600 sessions, we would sneak out to the garage to hang out where the long haired dudes that smelled like weed hung out and practiced. That kid and I would dig through their record collection and be freaked out by the artwork on the covers. The Iron Maiden "Purgatory" sleeve was particularly freaky to me. I remember being scared and fascinated by this whole world of monsters, gore, and guitars. I also remember the cops showing up on noise complaints at least once a week. Yet another random memory was watching those long haired guys standing outside wetting down their black jeans in order to make them fit tighter. Don't ask.
The next year, I went to school (a Christian school, no less) sporting a hat that had the names of all the bands that I discovered in that garage. You remember those label makers where you had to dial up the letter and press it onto that sticky strip? The band names were all on those labels, lined up all perfectly on the bill. I even spelled stuff wrong, like "Heavy Meatal". God damn, I was a dumb kid. And sure enough, my first concert (my dad had to drive me) was Iron Maiden, and thus my fuckin' heavy metal fate was sealed. Nowadays, I walk around with a Morbid Angel album cover tattooed on my arm, get boners about bands like Mastodon, and have a secret desire to grow my hair out super long and dress like a rock star. God damn, I am a dumb adult.
Now, some of you may be asking yourselves "How do you know that they were actually Metallica?" Actually you probably don't even care enough to ask. But I will answer you anyway. Years later, I was at Luckys with my mom doing some grocery shopping. Of course, I needed the newest issue of Circus magazine to remain cool. Sure enough, James Hetfield was on the cover. As we were checking out, the cashier (who just so happened to live a couple of houses down from my grandma) grabs the mag, points to his picture and said, "So, you like this band?" I said something to the effect of "Fuck yeah, bitch!" And then she goes, "Well, that's my grandson."
So there you go. I think that story makes me cool or something. Um, hail satan?
Send me stuff!
rstarin74@yahoo.com
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Tuesday 06th 2006f June 2006 10:13
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