Missed Connections: Punk on the ‘L’


Dear Girl with the Pink hair on the ‘L’,

Hi. I’ve seen you on the train a few times before. I know this because we pasted sexy glances at each other and I got a Deja Vu type experience. The kind where everything gets foggy like your high as fuck, or dreaming, yet know you’re still awake because the crazy guy next to you is ranting about black Nike socks and you know that wasn’t in the fantasy.

Anyways, you could have guessed it but I think you’re fucking sexy. I had the perfect way to start a conversation and felt like luck was on my side when you got off at the same stop as me. You had on small black converse with skulls and no socks. I know this because I find it really strange that girls don’t wear socks in the Chicago winter. I was going to ask your thoughts on this, but you just fucking J walked across the street like a crazy bitch.

A part of me thought the whole Avril Lavigne look was just a part of the quarter life crisis bullshit that most of our generation is going through because we’ve never had to struggle. But oh no, no you. You;’re the real deal. Which is “#amazeballs” as the kids would say, because despite my douche hair cut and grey designer overcoat deep down I’m a total social outcast. Even though I come from a trailer park, I can chameleon with the rich but I really don’t like playing the game. A part of me seems to be disappointed when this happens.

See I feels like I get the struggle your in. You want to rebel, but at the same time you do it in a safe fashionable way. I mean, most of the punks I know don’t put faint matching pink eyeliner on. It just isn’t the DIY way. You’re like that fat kid at camp how wants to get in the pool but only dips his toes in, which is cool.

But unfortunately, you know the ending to this Sid and Nancy story. I was a giant pussy and didn’t chase you down the dark alley you cut across. I’m a dick, I know. Will you ever forgive me for being so old fashioned?


-Darby Cashed


PS. Hopefully we ride the train together so I can awkwardly gawk at the nipple ring piercing through your bad Brains t-shirt in which will enviably find the courage for you to officially call me creepy to my face.

I’m really looking forward to it.

I truly can’t wait.

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