1980s | KTP

Earth After Death

Posted on February 7 by "Bad" Billy Pratt

“We’re not sorry that we tricked you”

We had a TV in the large, ground floor family room our suburban house offered before my parents converted it to a studio apartment for rent when they couldn’t make ends meet on my mother’s sole consistent income and my father’s sporadic, dysfunctional alcoholic income. This conversion happened so early in my life that I only have a few memories of spending time in the family room; these memories are happy and cherished. Memories of playing with my Skeletor and Cobra Commander. Memories of Christmas morning’s Nintendo Entertainment System set up– reveling in the disbelief that my parent’s actually got me one; reveling in the newness of the experience. Playing Duck Hunt (1985) at the advised six-foot distance from the television, measured with precision, probably for the only time. Probably the only time playing Gyromite (1985) as intended while watching ROB the Robot interact with the television in what felt like the future unraveling right then and there in our ground floor family room.

My dad and I would hang out in the family room on lazy weekend afternoons, where he’d watch TV and presumably drink– I was blissfully unaware at the time– and I’d be on the floor playing with my action figures and wooden blocks as he’d be flipping channels with his large, wired, cable TV remote. Every time he’d land on something that had the 20th Century Fox fanfare, I’d hope it was Star Wars. It never was, and I don’t know how I knew the 20th Century Fox fanfare may indicate an impending showing of Star Wars or if I just wished every movie that came on were Star Wars, but I know I never got my wish. My dad usually insisted on watching Star Trek (1966-1969) or M*A*S*H (1972-1983).

Touching the Face of God

Posted on June 17, 2023 by "Bad" Billy Pratt

“Sometimes the only thing we counted on when no one else was there”

Crying at the end of Fraggle Rock (1983) is one of my three earliest memories. I would watch in my parents bedroom. It was on at night. I loved feeling ensconced in the Fraggles’ world; I wanted to get lost in their winding caves. For an only child going to a school outside of the neighborhood, weekday afternoon friends were non-existent; The Fraggles are what felt real to me. At the end of every episode, I wouldn’t want to go to bed. I didn’t want to leave the Fraggles. I knew I would fall asleep contemplating the death of my parents. It was a long time from now, they would tell me. They were right. While the latter was always subsequent to the former, these events seemed unrelated. Maybe I didn’t understand the pacing and structure of proper story telling; that a television show had a beginning, middle, and end; that the escapism of fantasy isn’t meant to last.

As a child these events seemed unrelated but now they feel inseparable. Telling one story must involve telling the other.

Stoned at Wal*Mart and “Being Johnny Tangle” (2006)

Posted on May 16, 2020 by "Bad" Billy Pratt

“I know you better than you fake it…”

A few years after graduating college, with the idea in mind to become a literature professor, I found myself going to graduate school for a degree to teach high school English. Not a terrible idea entirely, but I was entirely unaware of what made it terrible; I was expecting it to be something that it never was- genuine– and this slight in understanding would set me back years.

Steal Away the Night

Posted on March 20, 2020 by "Bad" Billy Pratt

“Runaway with me tonight, dream the dream and light the light.”

Maybe it’s just part of growing up, feeling the depth of responsibility which that role entails- or the side effect of a tendency to lean toward narcissism- but I’ve never been able to let go of guilt. Lying in bed at night, thinking, how could I have been better or what could I have done differently. You put pressure on yourself to live up to an arbitrary ideal, and when you don’t, you never let yourself forget it. Maybe this is why I can’t sleep at night.

And when I’m lying in bed restless, I’ll often think about Christmas 1983. I don’t think I have coherent memories earlier than 1983, and if I take a moment to really focus, I can remember the feeling of newness and exploration I felt at that age- almost as if I were conscious of it at the time, but I know this is probably only how I see things in retrospect. I was obsessed with Masters of the Universe– captivated by the cartoon, and there were no better days than going to Toys R Us and getting to pick out one of the figures to take home. Of course, I preferred Skeletor to He-Man; even at three-years-old, I wanted to be the bad guy.