When Karaoke was introduced to America in the early 1980s, it is said that Byrne demonstrated the equipment at its New York premiere with a terrifying version of Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love.”

Emo started with a desire to emote and discuss more personal/poetic concepts that were less available in traditional three-chord punk. And you, Rainer Maria, understood that, even if I didn’t seem to.

My hometown doesn’t want me back. Perhaps that’s just as well, because it’s hardly the same place I terrorized as a teenager.

In my day, the web was small. It wasn’t even a billion pages yet. You could surf the entire thing in under a hundred years. And it was a kinder, more homey place; you knew all your neighbors.

In 1990, I met comedian Andrew Dice Clay in Las Vegas. His reputation preceded him: People were saying he was a lousy tipper and an obnoxious jerk.

For a hot minute, I considered running with the bulls myself — down the main drag of Mesquite, Nevada, past stunned onlookers, into a waiting limousine.

Hollywood Forever Cemetary reminds me of Los Angeles in the late 1990s, when I met Creepy Hearse Guy in a film studies class and fell in love.

It’s difficult to imagine, in this Age of Internet, what it would be like not to know what the members of your favorite band looked like — but in the days before the Internet, it was a very real possibility.

A book goes inside one (or is it four?) of the strangest albums ever released by a major label, Quentin Tarantino gets the mash-up treatment, and two hosers go looking for beer.

On May 5, 2010, my LiveJournal account turned ten years old. I completely failed to note the occasion — not even on Facebook, which is a big part of the reason I’m neglecting my LJ. Won’t do at all.