I decided to check out the Museum of Art and Design. Specifically because of their exhibit entitled Too fast to live, Too Young To Die; Punk Graphics 1976 - 1986.
Hey, besides being an old punk I'm a cheap bastard. I really have issues with spending money on myself. But seeing this little thing on their website I figured I can get in for free. When I got to the entrance desk things almost got ugly. They didn't have any signs they're saying disabled people and their helpers got in for free so I said “ hey, you don't have any signs here but it says on your website that people with disabilities can get in for free?” how she replied almost knocked me off my feet or cause my fused right wrist to make contact with her face. But I kept calm. She asked, ’ do you have your disabled card? “ I was old geared up to see Punk stuff so my blood pressure was already at max. In my head I was thinking I'm screaming in her face and telling her isn't it bad enough that I am fucking disabled do you think I have to carry a card around with me. Instead of showing are my scars up close I just took out my ack stress o ride MetroCard. She smiled and asked me if I needed one or two free passes. Deep breath.
ok anyway I went upstairs and took some crappy pictures. There was a lot of stuff of my youth including some albums that I still own.
And a mashup of another album that I own. like I pointed out and in earlier blog post about this photograph oh, I was there when this photograph was taken. I might not have said it back then when I saw this photograph in the Brooklyn Museum. But photography does not do that moment Justlike taking photographs from the north rim of the Grand Canyon, or from the Moon looking back at the Earth. Except that this was a photograph taken of an action scene. The energy at the moment that picture was taken was so profound in the Palladium back in 1979 that everyone in the room would have been okay if it would have triggered a nuclear explosion
It turns out I wrote a Blog about Joe Strummer on the anniversary of his death and of his birth
Anyway, punk rock was about anger. I walked in the door and got mad and then got less mad . but looking at all the stuff they had definitely got me mad. I hate to see my early life in a museum