After being sick for almost a month, I finally broke down and visited my doctor. The diagnosis? Acute Fergieliciousness. The treatment? Listening to Decemberists and Cat Power until the urge to wear my girl scout sashes as a halter top fades away. But until then, it’s best I continue the answers from my previous post:
Question One: What book freaked you out the most as a child? The other books?
- Human Sexuality Book Whose Title is Long Forgotten But the Scars Remain: The time: summer, fifth or sixth grade. The location: Kadena AFB Library. After being dropped off at the library by my mother (who after several seconds of deliberation decided I would be more of a impediment than asset while shopping at the base exchange) and exhausting all my literary standbys, I scrounged up a book with what I thought at the time was an innocuous title (“What Girls Should Know”? “It’s Great to be Grown Up”?) After reading a few chapters, I was a bit confused about what it was about. The I came to…The Chapter. The one that described the ultimate reason why our bodies were going through the changes–in horrific detail. (I was probably the only kid in the sixties who never heard about it on the playground.) But the capper? The sentence at the end of the chapter stating something to the effect of “the woman lies back, happy she has fulfilled her destiny as a woman.” To this day I’m still shocked they didn’t even mention the brand of cigarette she smoked while enjoying her destiny.
- Every UFO Book Published in the 1950s-1960s My family had a ritual when we visited other families: the parents talked and ignored us while the kids tried entertaining themselves, which for me meant gleaning whatever magazines/books they had. The one thing I learned from this ritual was the Air Force required all their non-commissioned officers to own at least three-to-five books on UFOs, preferably ones with as many grainy public domain pictures as possible. Of course, once I was initially freaked out, I was compelled to relive the trauma continually by looking for more UFO stuff, ultimately resulting in an embarrassing lifelong affinity to all things Trekkie.
The Question for Next Time: What’s the strangest thing you’ve used as a bookmark?
A hint: just today I finally discovered just what happened to the proof-of-registration card for my husband’s car….
A Final Pogo in the Mosh Pit: It’s with a very heavy heart that I announce the passing of Dirk Dirksen, the former operator/booker of the Mabuhay Gardens and one of the seminal figures of punk music in San Francisco. If nothing else, he gave my husband a chance to play rock star for quite a few years, for which I’m grateful.