Creep — The Hague, Netherlands | October 1992
What if …
Confused I stand in the doorway of the director’s office. What the hell happened?
Earlier I’d received a call that the college director wished to speak with me; not quite unexpected as I’d been skipping classes for weeks. On my way to college, I rehearsed the reasons I would give for my absence, ready to put up a fight. What were they going to do, expel me?
I was trembling as I knocked on the door, not out of fear but from anger. How dare they question my behaviour? Weren’t they the ones responsible? Three years I’d wasted at this business college, disillusioned at being forced to learn outdated theories taught by incompetent teachers. I entered the room and sat down on the chair pointed out by the director. I was ready for a fight.
“We’ve all been where you are now, I understand. Let’s talk,” the director said.
That came out of nowhere! I’d come to defend my behaviour and put up a fight, not to share my feelings. Confused I mumbled some stuff I don’t even remember, and then listened to the director outlining my options. They weren’t going to expel me, but from what I understood I was basically expected to expel myself. The director remained all understanding and not a word was spoken in anger.
I close the door and stride through the hallway, head held up high, trying to avoid the curious stares of other students, I make my way straight to the small pub across the street. The place is empty, which is not so strange as it is only 2:30 on a Tuesday afternoon. I sit down on a lonely barstool and order a kanon. The bartender is kind enough to serve me the 11.6% amber coloured beer without judging me. I finish my glass listening to traffic reports on the radio and order another one.
As I take my first sip, the sound of a muted guitar strum cuts straight through my soul, hurting. How do they know? Yes, “I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo,” and no! “I don’t belong here.”
As soon as I finish the second kanon, I pay and cycle home, a maelstrom of very disturbing thoughts racing through my mind. What am I going to do?
Sitting on the sofa at home, sipping a hot black coffee, I watch an episode of Soldier Soldier. Suddenly it flashes through my mind that I had been called up for military service the previous year, but was given a postponement because of study. What if…?
Without hesitation I call the National Service Bureau and try to find out what will happen to my postponement if I drop out of college. A friendly female sergeant explains that if I were to leave college now, I could expect to have to report for duty within the next six months.
After the sergeant hangs up, I immediately call the college to let them know I’m dropping out. Within six months my life is going to be “so fucking special!”
Radiohead. Creep on Pablo Honey [CD]. Oxfordshire, UK: Chipping Norton Recording Studios (1992)
This autobiographical sketch comes from my bundle In the Moment: A Disjointed Audiobiography which is available at Amazon.com. (USD 9.50 for a paperback or USD 4.50 for the Kindle version)
