A Love Letter to The Promise Ring Upon Hearing of their Reunion Show: You Are All of My Everythings.
This is what you do in sixth grade with your friends at the mall on a Friday night in the suburbs of Philadelphia.
You go to Spencer’s Gifts and look but never buy and wonder if you’re allowed to be there, among the grotesque and fantastic. You buy a ticket for the PG movie, Ice Age, and sneak into the theater for The Panic Room since you’re still twelve and wholesome and even-keeled at heart, but starting to nurse a healthy budding discontent. You take your sweater off in the murky fluorescent light of the empty food court because NO RULES and NO PARENTS and spaghetti strap tank tops are in. You slink into F.Y.E, the record store that no longer exists and which stood for For Your Entertainment, and flip through the CD racks, the muted smack of plastic on plastic, while someone tries to buy The Eminem Show but is thwarted by a Parental Adivsory sticker and a bored, dreadlocked cashier looking to enforce the law. Read More »
