Writing Wednesday: Finding Nirvana

For today's Writing Wednesday, I've decided to pull out a novel I started that will more than likely never see the light of day.  And PLEASE don't compare it to Mama Mia, I've already been told the plot is similar, though I've never seen the movie myself.  Without further ado, the opening paragraphs of Finding Nirvana.

      My name is Lanie and I’m a grunge addict.  Yes I’m well aware that it’s 2010, and grunge was so 1990’s, but it wasn’t really a choice, it was a way of life.  At times I felt like I was born a decade too late.  I would have totally fit in with the Seattle grunge scene, but that was my mom’s life, not mine.  So deep into that scene, she chose to name me Layne Veddar Cobain Cornell Miller.  Ridiculous I know, but she couldn’t make up her mind between her favorite singers from Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, and Soundgarden, respectively.  I decided when I started school that I would go by Lanie.  It sounded more, well, like a girl.

       When it comes to my dad, things get a bit more complicated.  You see, I don’t really know who he is, well, I kind of do.  He could be one of three guys, the first being Kenny James.  He’s a totally smart way cool dude who manages a couple local bands, the most “famous” if you can call it that being Toke.  The second might be BJ Dubois, the drummer for Drop Dead Lead, and no I don’t know if that’s his real name, or if he took the initials just to be funny or clever, which he’s neither though he thinks he is.  He’s a bit socially retarded, but he’s nice, and not bad to look at.  The last contestant on “Who’s My Dad” is Doug “Spaz” Harris, singer of The Deceased.  If you knew Doug, you’d know exactly why they called him Spaz.  First of all, he’s got Tourettes, so he tenses up and blurts out the most insane funniest shit at times, also, when he’s on stage, he dances like he’s having a seizure.

     These three are pretty much interchangeable to me, all white, all in their late thirties, all still living life as if they’re rock stars.  I can’t blame them really, I’ve got the bug myself and it’s hard to shake, plus I’ve never heard of a twelve step program for this kind of addiction.  When you look at those guys, there’s not one distinct feature you could point out and say, “oh, he’s GOT to be Lanie’s dad.”  I mean, my eyes are blue like Kenny’s, I have full lips, like BJ, and I’m tall and thin like Spaz.  And I guess seventeen years ago my mother loved them all.  So there you go.