Dear Diary

February 1993

I went to the Roxy and met this kid Mike Rubin. He's the drummer for the Warped Weeble Wobbles. He is the greatest. A sophomore at BU and the smartest kid. I cut my hair. My life is so boring. I'm just waiting for something to happen. If something doesn't happen soon I'm going to kill myself or lose my mind. I don't give a shit about anything anymore. I'll smoke my Camel Lights, drink my coffee, and only surround myself with people who I find intellectually stimulatIng. I was so happy when I came home from school today because I had gotten a letter from Bobby Eckstein, who is also in the W.W.W. He is the sweetest guy. I can't say I'm in love with him because I hardly know him. I really look up to and have respect for Mike Rubin. I wonder if he thinks I'm totally annoying or that it's ridiculous to talk on the phone.

The day I met Bobby and Mike, my whole life changed. I was sitting in the back and started talking to Mike "Ruby" Rubin, of the Weebles. The singer, Bobby, approached me and gave me a zine about their band. Ruby was 19, I think. I can't imagine what we had to talk about, but we talked every day for hours and hours on the phone. When he met my mom he said, "I hope you don't think I'm a pedophile or anything," which he wasn't, but looking back I guess it seems kinda weird.

The Weebles were a jokey band who sang songs about sperm-filled donuts and other "wacky" things. They were obsessed with DIY. It's not just for sticker collectors and quilt makers. We made zines, T-shirts, music, fliers, and friendships all 100 percent organically grown (you may think all of this sounds faggoty and over-earnest, but "oh well"). The mix tape was the ultimate love letter and we relied on jokes and riffs to get us through endless hang-out sessions at the diner. I spent more time in parking lots and warehouses and had more fun there than I would at any mall or disco. Arts and crafts are about finding raw materials and turning them into something different. That's what we did. For four years, every weekend of my teenage life was devoted to a certain kind of punk that I had witnessed and participated in building from the ground up. I got older, got over it, and today it's just a relic to me. A weird reunion where I keep my hands in my pockets and don't know what to say. Today Bobby is a professor of forensic psychology and Ruby teaches philosophy. Two squares on the quilt of my life—jk, but half not.

LESLEY ARFIN