Those of you who don't know me all that well may be surprised by this crush. Those of you in my close circles know I have babbled on about this dark performer like an enamored, starstruck schoolgirl over the past 16 years. Yes, I have had a crush on Trent for literally half my lifetime! I used to crush harder on him back in 1992-1999, while the past 9 years it's been more like a smoldering ember, but the attraction is still there. It's his passion, his songwriting, his performances, his innovative plays with technology, his intelligence and rebellion.....the dark, brooding type whose music is his catharsis. Being a sci fi and horror movie junkie, as well as a die hard fan of artists on the Wax Trax! label, his videos captivated me. His interviews were thought provoking. His voice sexy. I could feel this emotion bubbling right below the surface, and his eyes......those eyes.....one look, and I am a puddle. That is why he gets three images in my entry.
I don't exactly remember where I first heard NIN. At the time I was into Urge Overkill's Supersonic Storybook, Neds Atomic Dustbin's God Fodder, and Erasure's Chorus and Abba-esque (which I bought at Appletree Records by the Northern Illinois University campus). It was right when I had started dating Eric M, and I want to say one of the guys in the BHS weight room was playing Pretty Hate Machine on a tape deck while we were lifting at 6am for track. I do remember "Ringfinger" stuck with me from day 1, and to this day it's one of my top 5 NIN tracks. My little brother tells me my entire junior and senior years of high school I would not shut up about Trent.
I picked up the inaugural CMJ New Music Monthly and proceeded to collect every single issue for the next 5 years. I shopped at Goodwill for my thermals. I'd listen to "Burn" while out on my 4- or 5-mile runs. I started my first job with Arby's in November of 1992. While working there over the summer of 1993 there was this older biker-looking guy with a gray beard who would always come through the drive-thru on my shift, try to flirt with me, and order nothing but a large Pepsi. He was always by himself and drove a beat-up Delta 88 circa 1980-1982. After weeks of this strange behavior, I was closing one night, and he came through twice. The second time he told me he wanted to talk to me. He told me I was beautiful, and that he would like to spend some time with me. I told him I was dating someone. He said it didn't matter, and that he would wait for me until after I closed the store. I protested, but with this crazy look in his eye, he just drove off with his Pepsi and parked right next to my car, cut his engine, and sat there. I freaked. I told the manager about him, and she went out there and asked him to leave. He didn't. I then called my boyfriend-of-six-months Eric and told him how scared I was. Should I call the police? He told me just to sit tight and not leave the restaurant. Twenty minutes later Eric walked into the restaurant in a heavy flannel jacket, lead pipe in hand. He noticed my eyes grew as large as saucers when they connected with his weapon, and reassured me, "Don't worry. I didn't use it." He told me he had had a nice chat with the guy, and that I shouldn't worry about him anymore. I peeked out the window over his shoulder and noted the stalker's car was now gone. I don't know what Eric said to him that night, but I never saw that guy again. Ever.
During my senior year of high school I started working at Spencer Gifts and bought every NIN shirt we got in. I put four holes in my right ear, including the cartilage. I wore bohemian floral dresses with combat boots. At one point I even dyed my hair purple. I didn't want people to label me anymore. I was going to be the valedictorian of my class, but I was too athletic to be called a geek and too academic to be called a jock. I wasn't exactly metal, nor hippie, nor grunge. Some days I'd dress preppy too, just for good measure. I was promoted to assistant manager at Spencers and started doing some of my own visual merchandising. The Downward Spiral came out, and I was instantly floored. I graduated high school and entered the county fair queen pageant just to keep my best friend Nanci T company...as a last hurrah together before she was to go off to college in Minnesota, while I'd run off to Iowa.
Yes, there was an evening gown competition, interview, and swimsuit competition.
No, my hair wasn't purple at the time. LOL
My nickname was "Hoser" (from Strange Brew).
Natural Born Killers was my new favorite movie.
I started college heavily involved in intramurals. Mike H and Eric R were my co-ed basketball teammates, and I won the intramural free throw competition that fall (23/25). I was also on a co-ed volleyball team in Waterloo, where I got to know Ryan H. He gave me my first motorcycle ride on the back of his after a game one weekend, and we started spending a lot of time riding together. I had three Trent posters on my walls, including a black and white headshot on the wall at the foot of my bed facing me that showed up eerily well when I would keep my blacklight on through the night. Karen C and I deejayed our own one-hour weekly radio show called "Twilight Zone", where we would muse over the Cramps' Flamejob album cover and Hhead's existence, play students' voicemail greetings on the air, and spin the best and most obscure 80s new wave music we could find. I was also a television reporter for our college station and learned how much work was involved editing video segments (holy hellbaskets, people, I salute those of you in video editing!) . My love of NIN was shared by many of the boys of fifth floor Keane, but there was one boy in particular I grew pretty close to: Mike S. I would spend many nights in his and Cliff's room sipping on lemonade vodka concoctions while listening to Velvet Underground and discussing life. There was a group of us who drove to Gary, Indiana one weekend together to get fake IDs, and I fell asleep on Mike's shoulder when we spent the night in Lincoln Park. One night during the late fall he came over to my dorm room, wanting to talk. He was upset about a relationship of his and needed to vent. I needed a release as well and shared my frustrations over my Eric/Pete mess. We talked for what seemed like forever, then fell asleep on my bed, fully clothed, just holding each other, bonded by our friendship and shared emotions. He smelled like sugar cookies. Every time I hear "A Warm Place", I think about that night.
I picked up the inaugural CMJ New Music Monthly and proceeded to collect every single issue for the next 5 years. I shopped at Goodwill for my thermals. I'd listen to "Burn" while out on my 4- or 5-mile runs. I started my first job with Arby's in November of 1992. While working there over the summer of 1993 there was this older biker-looking guy with a gray beard who would always come through the drive-thru on my shift, try to flirt with me, and order nothing but a large Pepsi. He was always by himself and drove a beat-up Delta 88 circa 1980-1982. After weeks of this strange behavior, I was closing one night, and he came through twice. The second time he told me he wanted to talk to me. He told me I was beautiful, and that he would like to spend some time with me. I told him I was dating someone. He said it didn't matter, and that he would wait for me until after I closed the store. I protested, but with this crazy look in his eye, he just drove off with his Pepsi and parked right next to my car, cut his engine, and sat there. I freaked. I told the manager about him, and she went out there and asked him to leave. He didn't. I then called my boyfriend-of-six-months Eric and told him how scared I was. Should I call the police? He told me just to sit tight and not leave the restaurant. Twenty minutes later Eric walked into the restaurant in a heavy flannel jacket, lead pipe in hand. He noticed my eyes grew as large as saucers when they connected with his weapon, and reassured me, "Don't worry. I didn't use it." He told me he had had a nice chat with the guy, and that I shouldn't worry about him anymore. I peeked out the window over his shoulder and noted the stalker's car was now gone. I don't know what Eric said to him that night, but I never saw that guy again. Ever.
During my senior year of high school I started working at Spencer Gifts and bought every NIN shirt we got in. I put four holes in my right ear, including the cartilage. I wore bohemian floral dresses with combat boots. At one point I even dyed my hair purple. I didn't want people to label me anymore. I was going to be the valedictorian of my class, but I was too athletic to be called a geek and too academic to be called a jock. I wasn't exactly metal, nor hippie, nor grunge. Some days I'd dress preppy too, just for good measure. I was promoted to assistant manager at Spencers and started doing some of my own visual merchandising. The Downward Spiral came out, and I was instantly floored. I graduated high school and entered the county fair queen pageant just to keep my best friend Nanci T company...as a last hurrah together before she was to go off to college in Minnesota, while I'd run off to Iowa.
Yes, there was an evening gown competition, interview, and swimsuit competition.
No, my hair wasn't purple at the time. LOL
My nickname was "Hoser" (from Strange Brew).
Natural Born Killers was my new favorite movie.
I started college heavily involved in intramurals. Mike H and Eric R were my co-ed basketball teammates, and I won the intramural free throw competition that fall (23/25). I was also on a co-ed volleyball team in Waterloo, where I got to know Ryan H. He gave me my first motorcycle ride on the back of his after a game one weekend, and we started spending a lot of time riding together. I had three Trent posters on my walls, including a black and white headshot on the wall at the foot of my bed facing me that showed up eerily well when I would keep my blacklight on through the night. Karen C and I deejayed our own one-hour weekly radio show called "Twilight Zone", where we would muse over the Cramps' Flamejob album cover and Hhead's existence, play students' voicemail greetings on the air, and spin the best and most obscure 80s new wave music we could find. I was also a television reporter for our college station and learned how much work was involved editing video segments (holy hellbaskets, people, I salute those of you in video editing!) . My love of NIN was shared by many of the boys of fifth floor Keane, but there was one boy in particular I grew pretty close to: Mike S. I would spend many nights in his and Cliff's room sipping on lemonade vodka concoctions while listening to Velvet Underground and discussing life. There was a group of us who drove to Gary, Indiana one weekend together to get fake IDs, and I fell asleep on Mike's shoulder when we spent the night in Lincoln Park. One night during the late fall he came over to my dorm room, wanting to talk. He was upset about a relationship of his and needed to vent. I needed a release as well and shared my frustrations over my Eric/Pete mess. We talked for what seemed like forever, then fell asleep on my bed, fully clothed, just holding each other, bonded by our friendship and shared emotions. He smelled like sugar cookies. Every time I hear "A Warm Place", I think about that night.
