Darrin Hagen makes me remember

First of all, let me start off by saying that I could not wrench my fingers from this book in order to put it down.

I started off very much on the outside of this 80's hazy, drugged up, dragged out world that Hagen painted for me. I was inexperienced with the workings of this Underground world because I have never been a part of it, and now I was about to be let vicariously in through his words.

As I started to get to know Gloria, Lulu, Trash and the rest of the girls, I found that some of the questions they would ask themselves were questions that my friends and I have also asked ourselves. Take this for example: "Lulu and I would take the bus on cold mornings, and watch all the normal people scurrying to their normal jobs in their normal clothes, and wonder where we fit into the grand scheme of things" (96). I have thought this countless times, often on late night bus rides, whilst sitting like a drone on an uncomfortable, stained seat enroute to god knows where. It strikes me as interesting that usually it is nighttime, on a bus, that I begin to channel thoughts of this nature. There is just something about the night, being encapsulated in a bright blue time-bomb with highly unflatering lighting that jerks and groans as she journeys into the darkness that just makes me think. Gotta love the 4 Capilano.

Furthermore, I could relate to the part in the book, I forget where exactly it's written... I know I wrote it down somewhere, where Hagen, looking back on the Flashback days writes that basically when we're young we think that we are doing things that nobody else is doing. That we are experiencing things for the first time that nobody else has experienced. I too had this realization in myself a few months ago whilst sitting on my front porch on 83rd avenue and 97th street looking at the neighbourhood go by. I know that might sound lame... but that's exactly what I was doing. It was a moment when I caught myself growing up. Has anyone else ever had those?? I could see outside of what I could not see beyond before. Thank you Darrin for reminding me of that front-porch moment.