Whenever I listen to Velocity Girl there he is. Forever young. Cargo pants and skateboard at his hip.
Although people always referred to me as ‘smart’ by the time I was a senior in high school I was nearly flunking out. Whatever university I thought I was going to go to when I was a freshman had become past aspirations. Rutgers and Rowen were safety schools. But honestly, I wanted to get the fuck outta Jersey.
I worked at a Mom-and-Pop record store that was only open Friday-Sunday, so I also had a part-time job at a gas station where I worked with this skater dude. We were friendly enough although our musical tastes were often at odds. He was really into the poppy punk stuff like Green Day or the Offsprings. I despised both bands equally. We’d frequently compromise on the Descendants or All.
Cars streamed on and off the Black Horse Pike making work feel both brutal and eternal. During a lull Matt (the punk dude) popped a cassette out of his pocket. He said I’m kinda getting into this. It’s a band on the same label as Nirvana. Anyway, you’re going to FUCKING LOVE IT. The first song came and went, but about 45 seconds into the second song, “Crazy Town” I knew Matt was dead-on.
I looked at Matt and was like “YO!” Matt grinned like a devil, sun glinting off his green hair. Velocity Girl’s Copacetic became soundtrack to that blurred line between adolescence and adulthood. In less than a year I had quit both jobs. I impulsively decided to follow a girl I had a crush on to Eugene, Oregon. Matt appeared at my going away party, although I have no memory of inviting him. He spent most of the night upstairs getting high. On the main floor people huddled in the kitchen drinking shit beer; Jane’s Addiction pouring from the speakers.
Matt had skater friends in Euguene and sometimes we’d randomly run into each other at a party. Sweaty bodies crammed into a house and spilled out on the lawn. Beastie Boys booming from a house stereo. Frat boys and Rastafarians trying to out keg-stand each other. People in the kitchen doing knife hits.
Once I went to see Matt and his friends skate, but I got bored and ditched them. We never really became friends. The last time I saw him; he was strung-out on heroin like so many other people I kinda knew. I happened to bump into him at a party that was decidedly not my crowd. Matt came right up to me. Completely wasted and pressed his forefinger onto my chest. Nice FUCKING shirt. I was wearing a blue Velocity Girl shirt, the one that had an outline of a guitar and a chair on it. Some other random things I can’t remember. Later I heard that Matt was dead. Bad junk. Other times I heard he was skating in Cali. I have no idea what happened to him. Maybe in some heaven full of skateboards and sunny pop punk tunes. Green hair down to his ass and sleeping on a cloud.
*Not sure what this is. Probably just writing like was once said about Kerouac- ha ha. Partner’s out of the country so been tied-up solo parenting + final grades are due tomorrow. Ho-hum.
