the INLAID EAR

Baba, an American woman When my grandmother was dying I asked her—I don’t remember the question, the exact wording— something like, what truths have you learned? Very old people sat watching game shows. Baba was pretty far gone already, prone to private spirals of thought. We sat in chairs at a round table. Two sedate nurses counted pills. A bell rang from the TV: a contestant rewarded for a good answer. She said, “America, a light among nations…” Then she warbled, “Israel.” “Israel?” She turned her head toward the picture window filled with a seasonless color.

     "I'm a wearer of the dark, yeah, yeah, yeah: I have a dark suit."          —Dave Thomas Despite the bolt-rattling oscillation of our heads, some of us punks were able to half-wonder what would become of us once the guitar’s itch was scratched. “No Future,” begs certain questions in the aftershocks. Crocus Behemoth blew our minds often, mad head warbling like a climaxing teen; but better than those sound-scrapes, his bitter perspective conveyed diagonally how frankly fucking smart we were as punks.   Bands break, though. A car crash stopped D. Boon’s jam. Pop culture punks bit the dust on drugs (yawn) while aging bassists coupled and had kids, went to sew the sutures of middle age… Crocus took up the accordion, whined   about his old self, wheezed through his dark art and the girlfriends that came and went with it. By the one and only Lauren Ari. And look who's got a ne...