The year was etched in my memory: nineteen eighty-six. That summer air hung thick and sweet, almost tangible, especially during those late night bonfires we’d have. It felt like anything was possible back then, a feeling fueled, no doubt, by the sheer excess of everything. We were young, completely unburdened by the weight of responsibility that would later settle upon us. My old Chevy, a rust bucket I affectionately called “The Vomit Comet,” was our chariot, perpetually filled with friends and the hazy promises of adventure. We’d chase sunsets, music blasting from the cassette player, windows down, hair whipping in the wind. That’s when Party State Gluttony Madness Rock and Roll 1986 truly took hold.

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The parties, oh, the parties. They were legendary, filled with youthful energy, reckless abandon, and enough questionable decisions to last a lifetime. I recall one particular bash, held in a dilapidated barn just outside of town. Someone’s parents were “out of town,” and naturally, it was the perfect excuse. The beer flowed freely, a river of cheap lager that fueled both laughter and tears. The music was deafening, a relentless barrage of hair metal and power ballads, the soundtrack to our youthful rebellion.

We ate everything we could get our hands on, from the greasy pizzas delivered late to the overflowing bowls of chips and dip. It was a feast, a gluttonous celebration of youth, a defiance of impending adulthood. We devoured everything, both literally and figuratively. Friendships were forged in the shared chaos. Secrets were whispered in the dark corners. Regrets, well, those would come later.

The madness, though, that was the most alluring part. The thrill of pushing boundaries, the defiance of rules. It was a heady cocktail, intoxicating and dangerous. There were near misses, close calls, and moments that, in retrospect, were incredibly stupid. But in the moment, they felt vital, necessary, a vital part of defining who we were becoming. It was about losing yourself completely in the moment.

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The rock and roll, that was the heartbeat, the pulse of everything. It vibrated in our chests, coursed through our veins. The lyrics of Bon Jovi and Def Leppard were our anthems, our battle cries, our comfort blankets. The guitar riffs, the pounding drums, the raw emotion – it resonated with the turbulent chaos of our inner lives. The music was a constant reminder we were alive.

That summer, that year, it was a time capsule of everything that defined us, perfectly captured in one blazing, boisterous, imperfect moment. It was a potent mix, a cocktail that would be tough to duplicate later: Party State Gluttony Madness Rock and Roll 1986. It lingers, not just a memory but a feeling, a sensation I can still conjure with the right song, the right smell, the right fleeting thought. It remains.