The Youth I Never Had
The Youth I Never Had
Listening to Pleasant Dreams was like having the high school life I never had. A lot of people have likened the Ramones harmonies to the Beach Boys, but I really hate doing that, because the Ramones always used that wa-ooh sound in a way that was ironic, whereas the Beach Boys really meant it, and laid it on double thick. But the Ramones came close to being sincere about the syrupy sound in Pleasant Dreams, and as far as I know, most everyone loves the album. Two songs I got into intensely were “This Business Is Killing Me” and “It's Not My Place (In the Nine-to-five World),” for reasons you can easily understand. I was starting the terrifying transition from long years of hippie-hood and educational responsibility-avoidance into being a prisoner in the stainless-steel and glass towers of the legal profession. I found myself in the nine-to-five world during my summer at a big LA law firm, “Irell & Manella,” which I see made its way into the top ten of lawfirm political donors this year, according to the National Law Journal, that covers those things. Dizzying heights. Never seen such big lobster claws. As big as a catcher's mitt. Well, I'm exaggerating a little. But too damn big to be moral, or ethical, or in good taste, or anything but tasting good to eat. One day I found myself working with some lawyers for ABC, but the fact was that We Want The Airwaves was not on the agenda, that day or any day. So most of the time, I just stayed Sitting In My Room, pretending to know what I was doing, listening to the Ramones.
During that summer at I&M, I rode my motorcycle around a lot. It was a Yamaha SR500, really cool one-cylinder kickstart machine that was a little difficult to start but never precisely left you either stranded or short of exercise. I could get quite a workout before the engine caught. But once it did, we were underway. When the summer was over, I had to start commuting to downtown LA to a job working for a judge. It was a school thing, but a full-time job, that I got law-school credit for. There, I learned about grungy. Man, this is right downtown on Spring Street, just down the hill from the LA Criminal Courts building, across the freeway from Chinatown and Olvera Street. You can actually get this thing called a Kosher Burrito, which is corned beef, canned Texas-style chili, fresh onions and cheese all wrapped up in a tortilla. Shamefully good, but will give you enough gas to teach you to eat different. In the evenings, I liked to take the surface streets back to West LA, where we lived in student housing. It's a long ride, through Wilshire district, then Beverly Hills, Century City, Westwood, then south to the Palms district, where I was finally at home. It might have all been too much for me, but knowing clearly that it is not my place in the nine-to-five world kept me from getting too confused. The city, I began to realize, was something I had to use to survive, but it was not my creation, or my home, and I was going to escape.
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Listening to Pleasant Dreams was like having the high school life I never had. A lot of people have likened the Ramones harmonies to the Beach Boys, but I really hate doing that, because the Ramones always used that wa-ooh sound in a way that was ironic, whereas the Beach Boys really meant it, and laid it on double thick. But the Ramones came close to being sincere about the syrupy sound in Pleasant Dreams, and as far as I know, most everyone loves the album. Two songs I got into intensely were “This Business Is Killing Me” and “It's Not My Place (In the Nine-to-five World),” for reasons you can easily understand. I was starting the terrifying transition from long years of hippie-hood and educational responsibility-avoidance into being a prisoner in the stainless-steel and glass towers of the legal profession. I found myself in the nine-to-five world during my summer at a big LA law firm, “Irell & Manella,” which I see made its way into the top ten of lawfirm political donors this year, according to the National Law Journal, that covers those things. Dizzying heights. Never seen such big lobster claws. As big as a catcher's mitt. Well, I'm exaggerating a little. But too damn big to be moral, or ethical, or in good taste, or anything but tasting good to eat. One day I found myself working with some lawyers for ABC, but the fact was that We Want The Airwaves was not on the agenda, that day or any day. So most of the time, I just stayed Sitting In My Room, pretending to know what I was doing, listening to the Ramones.
During that summer at I&M, I rode my motorcycle around a lot. It was a Yamaha SR500, really cool one-cylinder kickstart machine that was a little difficult to start but never precisely left you either stranded or short of exercise. I could get quite a workout before the engine caught. But once it did, we were underway. When the summer was over, I had to start commuting to downtown LA to a job working for a judge. It was a school thing, but a full-time job, that I got law-school credit for. There, I learned about grungy. Man, this is right downtown on Spring Street, just down the hill from the LA Criminal Courts building, across the freeway from Chinatown and Olvera Street. You can actually get this thing called a Kosher Burrito, which is corned beef, canned Texas-style chili, fresh onions and cheese all wrapped up in a tortilla. Shamefully good, but will give you enough gas to teach you to eat different. In the evenings, I liked to take the surface streets back to West LA, where we lived in student housing. It's a long ride, through Wilshire district, then Beverly Hills, Century City, Westwood, then south to the Palms district, where I was finally at home. It might have all been too much for me, but knowing clearly that it is not my place in the nine-to-five world kept me from getting too confused. The city, I began to realize, was something I had to use to survive, but it was not my creation, or my home, and I was going to escape.
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