Running Backwards Through the Market/ Kids in Conshy
A Marah Memoir/ Part 2
Rock and roll doesn't necessarily mean a band. It doesn't mean a singer, and it doesn't mean a lyric, really. It's that question of trying to be immortal.
Mid-1980’s. Conshohocken, Pa.
On summer mornings, me and my little brother Dave would eat our Frosted Flakes in front of the big ground model TV parked on our living room floor. Th…