For a little over a year, I worked with Legs McNeil, co-author of Please Kill Me and legendary writer who was part of the New York City punk scene in the '70s. I've known Legs since I was a teenager, though it wasn't until I'd written a birthday message to him on PopMatters in early 2011 that we cooked up the idea of working together on a project. That project, Resident Punk, was Legs' autobiography, combining his own writing about his life with my biographical passages. The project is currently on hold, though I'm hopeful we'll pick it up again soon.
By Howie Pyro - The Cramps, punk rock band you say? The originators of Psychobilly you say? - Kinda, sorta, but nah. The Cramps are purveyors of a plethora of pornographic punk pulchritude that, all rolled together, seems to have formed its own lifestyle that includes clothing, hair, glasses, shoes, cars, films, restaurants, books, and music– all referenced in not-so-secret messages in their songs
I was checked in by police officers, and guided into an elevator to the fourth floor. The doors slid open to the clattering of lunch trays and voices talking above each other; a man in the corner, dancing. I was too exhausted to be phased by any of it.