DIY

Like a lot of you reading this, my first introduction to this self-sufficient ethos, one I would later learn my longtime heroes, the Minutemen, referred to as "Econo," was around the age of 14/15. Growing up in a suburb of Atlanta there were no real clubs to speak of, and even if there had been my friends and I most likely were too young to gain entry. So instead, one of the first shows I remember attending was held in a space that had once served as an old automotive repair shop; a show we hitchhiked to get to. There was one way in, and one way out, and that was a vertical, sliding, garage door with half of its twelve window-panes busted out and covered with cardboard and duct tape. Why the folks who co-opted and re-purposed the space never employed the actual adjacent door remains a mystery. Walking in, the room still smelled of old motor oil, axle grease and fresh spray paint. But more than anything else it smelled like freedom. This room, and the group of people gathered -- this, for lack of a better word, scene -- had absolutely nothing to do with our parent's generation's customs, politics or norms. Thinking back, I doubt if there was anyone over the age of 20 on the premises. It was liberating.

By this time any semblance of my giving a shit about team sports was long over, so this camaraderie, centered around music, art and self-expression was incredibly important. Writing this now, at 35, I can still connect with the moment when I realized you could go your own way---that the only agenda you needed to follow was that of your own. It's these realizations, these moments, that essentially end up dictating how you live your life and setting your priorities. To think this seed was sewn, in part, by attending a punk rock show in the humid summer of 1991is incredibly telling. It's why this ethos, DIY, is both alive and well. Because it liberates. Despite what corporate interests would have you believe, DIY is not about selling you shoes, or cars, a "lifestyle" or anything else. It is free. It is a choice.

Somewhere in a box, I still have the old black and white flyers of friends band's shows---photo-copied and taped to the walls and mirrors of our schools hallways, bathrooms and lockers. I still have tattered copies of the zines, copied and stapled together at friends parents' offices. And I still carry with me that DIY spirit.