Well not really. But the whole reason I’m blogging here is because of
my very first exposure to the former Black Flag frontman’s tour diary
Get In The Van and all the subsequent diaries he’s published over the
years. Henry Rollins, from a musical standpoint, is about as far away
from Paisley Babylon as it gets. Rollins writes in-your-face,
confrontational, aggressive music, whereas my stuff (while equally
introspective in places) is a lot more about taking strange mental
journeys. Music to listen to while trying not to be eaten by
zombies…that’s what I’m about.
the tribulations of travel, performing, etc. So what if it has nothing
to do with power chords and hollering? This morning, I woke up on my own at 6:30 and plowed right into the
shameless self-promotion. (Like writing this). Every book I’ve ever
read by Rollins has some kind of recurring theme about not wanting to
sleep the day away when there’s a mountain of work to get through to
keep your head above water creatively speaking. That is basically my
life here. It’s like when I saw Fight Club for the first time–I
cheered because somebody else GOT IT during those scenes where Ed
Norton is talking about waking up in a laundry list of airports. I’ve
lived it—you wake up in LAX, O’Hare Airport, Boston-Dulles,
JFK…this is your life and it’s going by one layover at a time and
you’ve eaten far too many hotel mints for your own good. Inspiration to keep going creatively comes from the strangest places.
I’ve been reading a biography of Alister Crowley lately–did you know
“The Beast 666” AKA the world’s wickedest man started off as a
mountain climbing English lit obsessive? Crowley was obsessed by
poetry in his college days…not the mental picture you had of the
dude who inspired Ozzy to sing Mister Crowley, is it? Heh.