In which we ruminate on becoming punk and The Decline of Western Civilization at THOUGHT CATALOG.

For real. The THOUGHT CATALOG. Excerpt? Word.

"One day I am sifting through the CDs in the punk section at the one-time Tower Records near my office on Wabash below the “L” Tracks. I am new to punk. When people who are my age and who still love punk started loving punk, I was more focused on varsity sports, fitting in and the Doors; followed by inhaling copious amounts of hallucinogens, the Grateful Dead and long, spacey jams. But something had shifted. A desire for noise and punches to the head, vibrating walls and speed, sparse, quick songs that slam and joke, dart into the room and then out again, as the music heads onto the next thing and the next thing and thing after that. No pause, just one musical blow after another is now my thing, and I am consuming all the punk I can, including the band I stumble onto that day, Be Your Own Pet. They are young and angry and funny and fast and I spend the rest of the afternoon listening to their self-titled debut album with equal parts joy, and confusion – how didn’t this sound appeal to me when I was their age, and why does it now?"