Absolute Clownshoes

 One of my flashbulb memories that really sticks is one of random violence - experienced by me one night while I was walking home from Little Caesar’s on Brighton Ave.  I worked there for a little over 3 years, having started that job during my sophomore year at Westbrook high, and wrapping up a month or so before graduating in June of 1994. This was my second pizza gig - my first job was at Pizza by Joe Angelone out at the mall when I was 14 - I had to get a work permit signed by the superintendent in order to effectively pay taxes as regulated by our government, and I also recall the chore it was tracking down open hours for his office that summer; I knocked on that door no fewer than three times before I found the office staffed.  Persistence? Idk. I needed money and this was the effective avenue. Plus my mom was tired of my lurking about and looking for trouble to get into with Josh Taber or worse, Mike Valliere - both guys I still love to this day for the number of times we random

 I'm blessed to have a great summer gig at a local music venue. It's my fifth season going as I write this and I'm gonna be obscure about location and talent as I absolutely fucking LOVE this job and on the random and arguably off chance that my words put some kind of bad karma out there pertaining to my or others experiences as unsaid venue, well, I guess I'd be upset if it came back to me, so this is to appease those dark gods.  In the years I've been on board here, I've seen the concerts and festivals sell out time and again with a huge portion of ticket sales going to families - like mom, dad, kids being all packed up and toted around for shows that have a very  heavy lean on substance-misuse.  My first concert was AC/DC, the Blow Up Your Video Tour, google for the year. I was young. I ended up close to front row and I sure didn't have any protection for my ears at all. I remember the cannons set up for Those About to Rock  and how they blasted me near d