Blood Tangent | Sarai Nissan
I am wearing my boyfriend’s paper-thin, baby bunny soft, blood stained (I’m not sure whose) vintage Circle Jerks T-shirt. I am curled up in front of my space heater that keeps shutting down my surge protector—I just wait a few seconds and turn that baby back on, because maybe an electrical fire will actually warm me up. Very punk-rock, right?
I pick up a phone call from my dad who I haven’t seen in weeks. All I know is, he is on top of some mountain in Yosemite literally sleeping on a ledge and I get broken up phone calls from him every once in awhile. My father wasn’t perfect, but what Israeli workaholic father is? He did raise me almost exclusively on David Bowie, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, and The Sex Pistols. When we woke up to Bob Dylan’s “Maggie’s Farm” and our father singing the lyrics obnoxiously loud and poorly (sorry dad) we knew it was cleaning day—the irony is just now sinking in—but, I will always be eternally grateful to him for giving me pretentiously good taste in music.
So, it’s finally October and that means cold weather, Halloween, leather jackets, and the 39th year after Nancy Spungen’s death. Nancy was the notorious junkie girlfriend of the notorious junkie bassist Sid Vicious, who was the initial suspect of her death by stab wound, so of course I loved them. Sid was the first bassist I fell in love with, or wanted to be; it is hard to tell when you’re 10.
I remember watching Alex Cox’s Sid and Nancy for the first time and I was sold on the punk lifestyle despite the drugs, sex, and especially the rock ’n’ roll. But as someone who is the same age as or a few months older than these two star crossed lovers, I drown in melancholia every time I think about them.
Spungen died at the age of 20 on Oct. 12, 1978. Vicious died at the age of 21 on Feb. 2, 1979. Their love story is notorious, the leather clad Romeo and Juliet, they were glamorized, advertised, agonized, analyzed, demonized, and eulogized. But when it comes down to it, they were just kids.