Aggroculture
Track #7
The super fan. Some would say annoying, obsessed, crazed fan. I was one of them. U2 was my focus. I immersed myself into every bit of it: every album, B-Side, rarity, live cut: you name it. My room was stuffed with magazines, posters, letters from penpals the world over. Sure, I loved other music, but U2 was like drugs to me. I was a full-fledged junkie.
At school I hung out with my misfit crowd for the most part – punk rockers, gays, uber nerds and the fringe “others”. Then there was the select few other “super fans”. Not other U2 fans, but fans of other music that were pretty much tipped over the edge of obsession like me. The music was different but the drive was exactly the same. Instead of annoying the shit out of our friends about our passion, we annoyed the shit out of each other but understood the passion
There was the Guns and Roses girl. I swear she had enough Guns and Roses Tshirts that she could go a month without wearing the same one. She had a slutty reputation. I didn’t associate with her outside of school.
There was the kid who was crazy over this Christian rock band, Undercover. He even invited me to a roller skating night that his youth group hosted. I went.
There was the Smiths fan who had Morrisey glasses and the hair-cut. She looked great. She was pissed that the Smiths became popular and called any other fan a “poser”. I told her that I appreciated the Smiths and found Girlfriend in a Coma hilarious. She then hated me.
Then there was the biggest one. The George Michael fan, Vicki (I’m pretty sure that was her name. I do remember that she dotted the i’s in her name with small g’s). She was nuts. She even went out of state to see his concerts. I thought that was so rad. The inside of her locker was a continuously updated collage of pin-up type pics of George. Then. There was the day (strike up the Entertainment Tonight opening music) that George Michael came out. The girl cried. I saw it. I turned into awkward Vowel Pellet and didn’t say shit: this is oftentimes seen as a trait belonging to a “good listener” – of which I can be – but sometimes you really just don’t know what to say. She blurted out “Now I don’t even stand a chance with him!” This stunned me. Both in part that she thought she had a chance when she took him a hetero and that she didn’t know he was gay. With all of her collections of magazines, didn’t she ever pick up an issue of The Advocate? Anyway, gay or not, the guy’s an amazing singer and quite attractive. She did remain an obsessive fan of his – and eventually more understanding of gay culture. That’s pretty super.
Vowel Pellet
Track #7
The super fan. Some would say annoying, obsessed, crazed fan. I was one of them. U2 was my focus. I immersed myself into every bit of it: every album, B-Side, rarity, live cut: you name it. My room was stuffed with magazines, posters, letters from penpals the world over. Sure, I loved other music, but U2 was like drugs to me. I was a full-fledged junkie.
At school I hung out with my misfit crowd for the most part – punk rockers, gays, uber nerds and the fringe “others”. Then there was the select few other “super fans”. Not other U2 fans, but fans of other music that were pretty much tipped over the edge of obsession like me. The music was different but the drive was exactly the same. Instead of annoying the shit out of our friends about our passion, we annoyed the shit out of each other but understood the passion
There was the Guns and Roses girl. I swear she had enough Guns and Roses Tshirts that she could go a month without wearing the same one. She had a slutty reputation. I didn’t associate with her outside of school.
There was the kid who was crazy over this Christian rock band, Undercover. He even invited me to a roller skating night that his youth group hosted. I went.
There was the Smiths fan who had Morrisey glasses and the hair-cut. She looked great. She was pissed that the Smiths became popular and called any other fan a “poser”. I told her that I appreciated the Smiths and found Girlfriend in a Coma hilarious. She then hated me.
Then there was the biggest one. The George Michael fan, Vicki (I’m pretty sure that was her name. I do remember that she dotted the i’s in her name with small g’s). She was nuts. She even went out of state to see his concerts. I thought that was so rad. The inside of her locker was a continuously updated collage of pin-up type pics of George. Then. There was the day (strike up the Entertainment Tonight opening music) that George Michael came out. The girl cried. I saw it. I turned into awkward Vowel Pellet and didn’t say shit: this is oftentimes seen as a trait belonging to a “good listener” – of which I can be – but sometimes you really just don’t know what to say. She blurted out “Now I don’t even stand a chance with him!” This stunned me. Both in part that she thought she had a chance when she took him a hetero and that she didn’t know he was gay. With all of her collections of magazines, didn’t she ever pick up an issue of The Advocate? Anyway, gay or not, the guy’s an amazing singer and quite attractive. She did remain an obsessive fan of his – and eventually more understanding of gay culture. That’s pretty super.
Vowel Pellet
