I actually had this poster hanging in my bedroom when I was in high school. We were all obsessed with The Cure back then and most of my girl-friends were obsessed with Robert Smith…why I’ll never understand. By today’s standards he’s so completely dark and brooding, the perfect boyfriend mix of eye liner and angst while wielding a guitar. The song Friday I’m in Love didn’t actually come out until 1992 when it was released on the Wish album, but I was already two years gone from high school so it’s strange that I remember this song from high school. While I’m not sure of the specifics, I am absolutely sure that we did listen to Boys Don’t Cry, Just Like Heaven and all of the other greats while we were in high school, driving around, leaving notes on boy’s cars that we liked and pouring syrup from pancake houses on the windshield wipers and door handles of cars of boys we didn’t like. Yes, we were quite the badasses of central Indiana with our punk rock concert tees and Doc Martins, cuffed jeans and thrift store sport coats.
Today, my friend Stephanie from high school commented on the flashback of The Smiths Girlfriend in a Coma, that I had written yesterday. “Oh wow. I can smell the wisp of cloves now…”, referring to our late fall and summer nights smoking clove cigarettes while signing the words to our favorite songs. It’s nice to know that some of my other friends remember those nights and those songs because there are still nights that I get into my car, light a cigarette and I’m 18 again. Actually, I don’t think some of us ever grow up. I don’t think I will. I refuse. You can’t make me!
Well…maybe at least not until I’m done listening to my old Cure albums…
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