A colleague at my previous job was a Def Leppard fan. I joked (rather cruelly) that it showed. It took her 9 years to finish anything, and then it was guaranteed to be over-produced as all fuck… Thankfully she laughed.
Another workmate followed up with the question of whether the same rule applied to Poison fans, and I retorted that I was indeed the quintessential Poison fan: sex-obsessed and badly dressed.
Also, really really uncool. But surprisingly okay with that…
There probably aren’t enough pages in the world to explain my 25+ year relationship with the band Poison. It is a love affair once vast and complex, but also fraught, unstable, one-sided and possibly doomed… which isn’t bad considering in reality it was largely between a teenage girl and a few bits of paper.
As time goes on in this blog, I will no doubt unfold and pore over that relationship. Some of my friends know bits and pieces. Most know nothing of it. No one but me really knows its full measure. In many ways it is like a real love affair: life-changing but secret, enabling me to see the world in some very different shades, but still something I hold to my chest quite privately.
People will judge me. Judgey people. And even if they don’t, like all great teenage loves, no one really understands.
Those who’ve read my past blogs will probably all be roundly sick of Poison by now. However, like it or not, they made me who I am and due attention must occasionally be paid. If not, the rest doesn’t really make sense…
Especially not the suede leopard-print jacket in electric purple.