When I was a child in the early 80’s, we had a record
cabinet (whoa…dating myself here)
that contained both my books-on-record (these
were awesome and came in Happy Meals instead of crappy plastic toys) and my
parent’s records. To keep me
entertained, my parents would plug in the HUGE headphones (I swear they weighed several pounds, it was a feat of strength just to
keep your head up in them as a kid), put my record on, and let me just sit
there, read/listen to my book, and browse through their records in the cabinet. I had three favorite album covers from their
collection and I really think they were a telling sign that I would grow up to
be this way.
My favorite cover was the Alice Cooper album, “From the
Inside”. It was a close-up of Alice in
his trademark makeup with his pupils replaced by a photo of asylum
inmates. This album had little flaps on
it that looked like doors. When you
opened the album, there was a two panel-wide photo of the interior of an insane
asylum. Each of the residents was different:
one guy was a gambler, another was looking up a nurse’s skirt, one in army
fatigues had an open umbrella…inside, etc.
There was nothing “cute” about it, most children would have been scared
looking at it, or at the very least confused.
I LOVED it. I closely examined
each of the people in the photo and made up stories about why they were
there. I don’t remember any of these now
and I’m pretty sure most of the reasons they were incarcerated were over my
head. I was a smart kid, but I didn’t
really understand concepts like military PTSD, peeping toms, sex addiction,
etc. Didn’t matter though, I still
pulled it out almost every time I used the stereo.
My second favorite cover was Queen’s “News of the World Tour”
album. The cover had a giant robot, who
had ripped off the roof of a theater, reaching through the hole toward humans
who are seen screaming and fleeing in terror.
Not really Saturday morning cartoon fare. The inside of the album was a two panel-wide
drawing of the robot with bloody dead humans in one hand and the finger of the other
hand dripping blood. The expression on
the robot’s face is somewhere between confusion, sorrow, and regret. Like what you might see on Lennie from ‘Of
Mice and Men’: “I just wanted to hold them, I didn’t realize they were so
fragile.” It broke my little heart, he “didn’t
mean to”. Seriously, what kid empathizes
with a giant robot who commits involuntary manslaughter?
I think, knowing this information, my parents should not
have been surprised at all about how I turned out:
- Goth sensibility and a plethora of black clothes.
- Macabre interests and an unusually thorough knowledge of poisonous plants and forensic science.
- So many Halloween-themed items that my bathroom is permanently decorated in them, glow-in-the-dark dancing skeleton shower curtain included.
- Dark sense of humor, blade fetish, and unholy passion for Motionless in White and A.F.I.
- Love of horror movies and a bookshelf full of Baudelaire, Poe, Wilde, Joe Hill, Lovecraft, etc.
- All black curtains to turn my bedroom into a permanently dusky haven that any bat would be proud to call home.
I think that’s enough to prove my point. I was never going to be a debutante. My mother prayed that it was just a phase and
she won’t admit it, but she’s still a little sad that I will never willingly
don a baby pink cardigan and pearls or wear a wedding dress padded with so much
tulle that your head looks like wedding cake topper on a human cupcake. Hang onto your dreams, Mom, but hell will
have to freeze over first.
