Read Online Nine Inch Nails' Pretty Hate Machine (33 1/3) by Daphne Carr - Free Book Online
Authors: Daphne Carr
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at it. I’ve being doing this job now for 10 years. I enjoy it because in the summer, I get paid to take the kids to go swimming and hang out. I try to respect them, and when they say, “Dave, I can’t do this,” I say, “Sure you can.” I don’t tell them my background, but I have a lot in common with them because of the 15 years that I was in the system. My wife just gave her job up, so for the first time in her life she’s not working, and here I am making decent money. My mom says, “I can’t believe my son …”
I think of the first song on
The Fragile
, where Trent sings, “Too fucked up to care anymore.” I can relate to that feeling. While there was more clarity, he was still in a dark place at that time. In my lifetime, sure I’ve been in the shit, pretty fucked up and not caring, and could relate to those things Trent sang about. My passion for NIN will always be there, but it’s not what it used to be. It was all that I held on to once.It’s comforting to remember those times, to remember the struggle and to say, “You’re not there anymore, isn’t that wonderful?” But I don’t mean that about the music, because it takes me back to that place, as miserable or as fascinating as that time was.
I won’t let go of it, because nothing else has grabbed me and touched me. When Trent sang, “It took you,” in concert, I pointed at him. “It took you to make me realize/It took you to make me see the light.” He’s not Jesus, but for me, “the light” was the wrong or who was wronging me. I think I solved a lot of my problems, or pondered them, while listening to Trent. “It took you” to make me pull myself out.
I’m glad he’s been clean for a while. I went through years of addiction, but I don’t regret it. Hopefully he’s a better person for going through it. I was mentally ill for a big part of my life, and while I’m not ecstatic about it, I’m glad it shaped me into who I am today. My idol was a drug user, and now he’s clean and square. That doesn’t change anything or bother me. Now he looks like Henry Rollins, Glenn Danzig—good for him. We all gotta grow up sometime.
Terrible Lie
Adam, 24, Youngstown, Ohio
Adam was referred to me by the younger brother of my high school best friend. We met and talked in the computer room at his parents’ house in Boardman, Ohio, the suburb in which we both grew up.
I was born in Youngstown and have lived there all my life. My mom worked at Minnesota Fabrics and my dad had some government job, and then he became a newspaper truck driver. Throughout elementary school, I was a huge Weird Al Yankovic and Michael Jackson fan. I was a big Kiss fan in middle school and was also into pro wrestling, so I guess I liked theatrical things. I got into the guitar at 12, and I’m sure I thought of myself someday being like Ace Frehley or Paul Stanley.
When I was in middle school, my parents took me to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, where I saw the
Aladdin Sane
latex bodysuit and a
Ziggy Stardust
costume with outrageousbell-bottoms, the one Bowie wore along with a big jewel on his head. I liked Bowie visually, what he symbolized: androgyny.
I never really fit in or got into the sanctioned topics for kids at Boardman. I was drawn to things that were alternatives. Bowie really affirmed something about being different. Around that time, I started growing long hair and shopping at this store Wyld Stylz, later called the Anti-Mall. I remember in the window there was an airbrushed shirt of a cowgirl with her leg up, in some red, skimpy outfit. I went into the store in sixth grade, trying to look like I belonged there. I liked band T-shirts and vintage velour shirts, stuff that would make me look like Led Zeppelin. I was too young to be friends with the people who worked there, but they knew me. I’d go just to hang out. Mary, the owner, was into industrial and goth music. It wasn’t the stuff that I would listen to and buy. What I listened to had to
I think of the first song on
The Fragile
, where Trent sings, “Too fucked up to care anymore.” I can relate to that feeling. While there was more clarity, he was still in a dark place at that time. In my lifetime, sure I’ve been in the shit, pretty fucked up and not caring, and could relate to those things Trent sang about. My passion for NIN will always be there, but it’s not what it used to be. It was all that I held on to once.It’s comforting to remember those times, to remember the struggle and to say, “You’re not there anymore, isn’t that wonderful?” But I don’t mean that about the music, because it takes me back to that place, as miserable or as fascinating as that time was.
I won’t let go of it, because nothing else has grabbed me and touched me. When Trent sang, “It took you,” in concert, I pointed at him. “It took you to make me realize/It took you to make me see the light.” He’s not Jesus, but for me, “the light” was the wrong or who was wronging me. I think I solved a lot of my problems, or pondered them, while listening to Trent. “It took you” to make me pull myself out.
I’m glad he’s been clean for a while. I went through years of addiction, but I don’t regret it. Hopefully he’s a better person for going through it. I was mentally ill for a big part of my life, and while I’m not ecstatic about it, I’m glad it shaped me into who I am today. My idol was a drug user, and now he’s clean and square. That doesn’t change anything or bother me. Now he looks like Henry Rollins, Glenn Danzig—good for him. We all gotta grow up sometime.
Terrible Lie
Adam, 24, Youngstown, Ohio
Adam was referred to me by the younger brother of my high school best friend. We met and talked in the computer room at his parents’ house in Boardman, Ohio, the suburb in which we both grew up.
I was born in Youngstown and have lived there all my life. My mom worked at Minnesota Fabrics and my dad had some government job, and then he became a newspaper truck driver. Throughout elementary school, I was a huge Weird Al Yankovic and Michael Jackson fan. I was a big Kiss fan in middle school and was also into pro wrestling, so I guess I liked theatrical things. I got into the guitar at 12, and I’m sure I thought of myself someday being like Ace Frehley or Paul Stanley.
When I was in middle school, my parents took me to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, where I saw the
Aladdin Sane
latex bodysuit and a
Ziggy Stardust
costume with outrageousbell-bottoms, the one Bowie wore along with a big jewel on his head. I liked Bowie visually, what he symbolized: androgyny.
I never really fit in or got into the sanctioned topics for kids at Boardman. I was drawn to things that were alternatives. Bowie really affirmed something about being different. Around that time, I started growing long hair and shopping at this store Wyld Stylz, later called the Anti-Mall. I remember in the window there was an airbrushed shirt of a cowgirl with her leg up, in some red, skimpy outfit. I went into the store in sixth grade, trying to look like I belonged there. I liked band T-shirts and vintage velour shirts, stuff that would make me look like Led Zeppelin. I was too young to be friends with the people who worked there, but they knew me. I’d go just to hang out. Mary, the owner, was into industrial and goth music. It wasn’t the stuff that I would listen to and buy. What I listened to had to
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