I know, I skipped February.
But March belongs to the one, the only, Henry Rollins.
Rollins is one of the few guys I discovered that I was younger that has stuck with me into adulthood. Whereas I dropped bands and groups from my teen years for a variety of reasons – the music no longer resonated with me, I had outgrown and no longer found it comforting or powerful, or just plain that it held bad memories for me – Rollins is the only one, I think, that has stuck with me into adulthood and become more powerful to me, if that’s possible.
Henry Rollins entered first into my life at thirteen, when someone that I’ve forgotten since handed me a mix tape with Black Flag on it. Later on, I discovered Rollins’ spoken word and his later work with The Rollins Band, but really, it was his spoken word that always captivated me. Henry Rollins is funny, incisive, brutal and honest about what he believes, and if you have the chance to go get tickets to a show, it’s well worth the money you spend. I went for his previous tour and he spent three glorious hours on stage, all of it interesting.
If I am having a very bad day, like today, when it’s tempting to just give up on your fellow human beings, when you feel cynical and bleak, there’s actually no one better to listen to. Rollins is, if nothing else, hopeful (believe it or not) and has always been – to me, at least – refreshingly honest and inspiring. I don’t think anyone grinds out their life quite like him. The word ‘motivated’ isn’t anywhere near close enough to describing how insanely dedicated Rollins is to his chosen work in life.
Cheers to him. I needed some Rollins today and I’m glad he’s around. And I certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers. (And that’s all the shameless objectification I have in me today.)
1416 and Counting 