Mother’s Day Means A Meaningful HRO Tribute To Mothers of Alt Kids.

Will you be an alternative parent one day?
I don’t think the current crop of alternative females have very good maternal instincts. Most alt bros will probably just marry mainstreamers who won’t entirely resent giving up full time self-involvement.

[Photo by Austin Style Watch]

************
A Mother’s Day Song for your mom…

“And I don’t want the world 2 c me,
bc I don’t think that they’d understand…
When Everything’s made 2 b broken,
I just want u 2 know who I am…”
-The Goo Goo Dolls, “Iris”

XX BONUS XX
****AN OPEN LETTER TO MOMS OF ALT BROS*******
Dear Mom,
I just want you to know that I appreciate you. I’ve gone through a lot of fads over the years, and made you listen to a lot of crappy music in the car. I only played it because I wanted you to appreciate me for who I was at the time. I wanted us to have a connection when I played “Father of Mine” by Everclear.

You bought me a lot of shitty clothes, and you drove me to places so I could try to fit in and sometimes try to finger girls in the back of movie theatres. I remember when you bought me my first cargo shorts, painters jeans, and band t-shirt at Hot Topic. You never made fun of me, and you never tried to stop me. You bought me rap CDs, alt rock CDs, Deep Blue Something CDs, and Dishwalla CDs. This means you really love me, unconditionally. Also, there was that time where I made you buy me an electric guitar, and I never really learned how to play it.

You have been here for me every step of the way on my journey towards my alternative existence.

I remember when you signed me up for a summer art program where I learned how to paint, and do arts and crafts doodling crap. It’s funny how things work out. Almost a decade later, you paid for me to go to an auto-acceptance Art Institute in Chicago/San Fransisco/New York City/Los Angeles. I went for a year, and you paid the $30,000 tuition, and you paid for my rent. You also bought me a Macbook because I wanted the little camera thingy, even though you bought me an iBook 3 months earlier.

During my year failing out of art school, I did a lot of bad things, but they were probably good for my social life. Atleast 80% of my monthly budget is spent on night life activities. You also indirectly paid for my chest tattoo.

I remember the first time I came home from art college. I had a beard/a piercing/dressed like I was a new person, and tried to seem super disinterested and disgusted in my suburban surroundings. You looked kind of like you were proud of me, I think. Maybe you were just confused, but it was a stomach punch of sweetness that were genuinely just happy to see me.

When I told you that my heart wasn’t in art school any more (because I didn’t do any work for an entire semester and had to “medically withdraw because of depression & anxiety”), and I needed time to ‘find out who I was and how I could express myself’, you gave me time. When I got tired of the whole bullshit scene in my city, you gave me money to move to a new major city. You supported me while I spent 3 months searching for the perfect job in the perfect coffee shop/bar/retail outlet.

I hardly call you any more because I don’t think you can appreciate how cool, intellectual, progressive, and culturally relevant everything about my existence is.

I am thankful for you, and I know you have given me everything, so it’s just difficult for me to talk to you because I feel incredibly guilty about the decisions I’ve made. As Sufjan Stevens said in the song CHICAGO, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” But you’ve always been there because you are waiting for me to turn into some one great (which happens to be a song by a band named LCD Soundsystem).

Fortunately, I’m finally doing something. Me and a group of my buddies are going to start a blog. It’s sort of like a website where people come to read your writing, or videos, or just browse pictures. It’s basically the future of journalism, and I think we’re really going to make it, and just promote music, and try to make the scene a better place. I think we are going to blog for social change, party promotion, and post some really awesome italo bangers.

I love you mom. I’m sorry that I am a turd that came out of your womb, and eventually turned into a bigger turd who requires the monthly budget of a four-person family in Middle America.

Love,
Your Alt Bro Son

PS: Attached to this letter is a burned CD. It’s an album by Feist called “The Reminder.” I think you’ll enjoy it since you like Sheryl Crow.
*****************

HRO [HIGHLY RECCS] ATTEMPTING TO SHOW SOME COMPASSION TOWARDS YOUR MOTHER TODAY. OR MAYBE JUST ACKNOWLEDGE HER.

“My Son Moved to the City and now he is a FGGT.”

CARLES: A GOOD PERSON DEEP INSIDE?
LATERS.