Never trust a hippie

To Sid:

Oh, thou beautiful May – the month of the Taurus, month of cleansing, purification and new beginnings! No more self-denial and rejection but self-destruction – happy birthday, Sid Vicious.

About Rotten:

This is one of those days where I like to reminisce about my past (going back twelve years ago), my teenage crush on John Lydon, after watching the Anarchy in the UK video on Viva2. The age of revolt began.

I remember buying my first Sex Pistols record, Kiss This, without realising that it was a Best Of album. It included all the songs on Never Mind The Bollocks and Sid’s cover of My Way. And Jonesy and Cookie’s song Silly Thing. I didn’t like the album after the first listen. I was hoping to stumble on a slow song – mind you; I didn’t know what punk was all about back then – all I knew was Green Day and Offspring, and they had some ballads.

Well, my love for Johnny grew after reading No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs. I was fifteen when I ordered that book in a bookstore. I remember the outrageous expression on the sales assistant’s face when he saw the title.

I had no idea where my boost of confidence came from. A whirlwind had blown away all my teenage fears, and I didn’t give a toss about anything. Ironically that was how I made my first friends in school. I was no longer standing on my own in the schoolyard. I started cutting holes in my clothes and used safety pins to fasten them back together. I drew the anarchy and ‘Nazis raus!’ symbol everywhere – on my bags, clothes, bedroom walls and exercise books, quoting the Pistols, especially Johnny.

After reading his autobiography, I converted from anarchism to individuality, finally understanding the point. Henceforth I knew I had somewhere to go in life.

The notion of being me became more vital than anything else I had ever known, and more significantly, I began to think for myself. So the Pistols – Johnny was the catalyst for my personality change by transfiguring my ego from frail to resolute. Hell knows what would have become of me otherwise.

My timidity used to overshadow who I was with a lot of pressure and loathing. My emotions were fucked until I saw the Pistols on TV, and I found what I had been looking for since Hamlet.
The value of honesty.

I went over the top with honesty. I wouldn’t lie to protect, I wouldn’t lie to be kind, and I wouldn’t lie in order not to hurt (Moliere’s Alceste played a significant role here, too). However, a change of attitude occurred when I made the worst mistake of my life–hurting my mother.

I never apologised – not even twelve years later. It’s not common for the Chinese to say sorry – whether family arguments, political turmoil or whatever. Maybe we are too proud, or we don’t like reminders. But Chinese people tend to hold a grudge against others, even if it’s just stealing a chocolate bar.

I maintained my values nonetheless. What I’ve learned is when not to speak–one of the many reasons I choose to be quiet.

To Steve & Paul: Ah, thou kleptomaniac, Jonesy – my second favourite Pistol, one of my favourite guitarists, the voice of a gentleman! Memories of masturbation stories with plenty of imagination about you and Cookie singing the cutest hook-up line, “How far can you spit?”

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