Fuck college, fuck a "real" job! Music is your life! You're a hometown hero! You're in at least two local bands and are thinking of forming a third. You sleep on your friend's couch, eat your friend's food, and borrow your friend's car. You frequent the dark city bars and hang with the other rockers and groupies. You wear dirty jeans, well-worn t-shirts, and your hair is a mess. You're sinister and mysterious and look as if you don't give a shit. You worship the Rolling Stones, MC5, and your older brother's band. You're gonna make it big one of these days, you can just feel it.

You're sensitive, you're emotional, and you wonder why everyone else in the world exists on a different plane. You cannot eat, breathe, or sleep without analyzing each action to death. You're usually sombre, depressed, lethargic, but you can be nearly glad from time to time. You wear whatever you can find on your cluttered bedroom floor. You carry books, notepads, reading glasses with you wherever you go. You have friends, but only a few who truly get where you're coming from. You frequent coffee shops, libraries, and the less crowded bars. You're obsessed with past people, past ideas, past lives. You wish you could die and be reborn as Jack Kerouac.