nude highway driving

Henry Rollins has gray hair and I don’t want to go to work in the morning.

During his show tonight, Henry described seeing the Ramones for the first time in D.C. in 1979 . The place was packed, the band tore the place apart with their intensity, sweat and energy were flowing freely and Henry walked away knowing that his life was changed and while he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with his life he knew he wouldn’t “be a banker or an insurance saleman or something like that.”
For me, this defining concert moment was Black Flag in 1986 in Tulsa, Okla. — “The Valentine’s Day Massacre.” It happened at a club that was in existence for about a month and a half. My ticket cost $6. The T-shirt was $8. There was no stage. As obscure SST bands Gone and Painted Willie opened, Henry Rollins sat on the floor near me and just stared ahead, cracking his knuckles. He was my hero, but I wasn’t about to go talk to him because he looked like he wanted to kill people. I didn’t want to get killed at my first real punk show, maybe just roughed up a bit by angry chicks with mohawks. When Black Flag took the stage, things got intense. Henry, wearing only running shorts, pointed at the masking tape that marked the stage boundaries and said “don’t fucking cross the tape.” The band then ripped into “Loose Nut” and the previously sedate crowd turned into one of the greatest pits ever. Bodies flying, music cranking, boots stomping … I was hooked. I was changed.

Throughout the years, he remained my hero. I never really got into drugs mostly because of him and his friend Ian. I dug his poetry while he was in Black Flag and continued to dig the spoken-word stuff after the band disintegrated. I even liked the Rollins Band, even though it just wasn’t the same to me. Most important, I always respected the way he worked and lived. He came up through the real scene and instead of becoming crap to make a name for himself after Black Flag he brought the fans to what he felt like doing … publishing books by himself and people such as Nick Cave and Exene or cranking out righteous music that kicked your ass. And he once dated Lydia Lunch — how cool is that?

Every time I see him do spoken word, he lightens up a little more. His shows have gone from pure-fucking-rage poetry readings to almost comedy standup shows, and it all rules. I know some think he’s a sellout, but I think he’s played by his own rules the entire time and always stands up for things he believes in and I still consider him a hero. Every time I see him speak I get inspired and think back to nights of staying up all night listening to Black Flag and writing.

I thought at first the lights were too bright or angled weird, but I eventually realized tonight that Henry Rollins has gray hair.
He’s got it early at 42, but it’s there and I feel old. He’s still immensely inspired by Life itself and has the same energy and spirit he always had, just with a lightened-up twist. Instead of talking about killing pigs he talks about getting kicked in the balls by little kids. Instead of telling us we’re all cockroaches waiting to be squashed he talks about spooning Bill Stevenson in the tour bus. An amazing 2 1/2 hours that (as usual) made me want to quit my job and try something that inspires me. I’m not in a sellout job or doing something I hate just for the money, but I’m also not living true to my dreams and taking a chance on my creativity or intellect (they’re around here somewhere). There’s nothing more frustrating than knowing you’re not living up to your potential.

So … what to do now? I don’t know. It’s super late and I could stay up all night writing about the different thoughts, feelings and ideas zooming through my cattle-prodded head, but I must get some sleep so I can get through the workday without feeling like the walking dead.

I’d much rather be on the road.