The prancing idiot and the ideologue.

Gah, I just lost 4 paragraphs to the ghost of vindictive internet fairies…. fuck.

Where was I?

Oh yeah…

“Sedentary” creeps in slow like an old lover… First it’s just calling you every once in awhile recommending you stay in for the weekend, or skip laundry day, but the next thing you know you’re all tied up in some crazy bitch you bailed on 3 years ago because she turns you into an unhealthy shit sandwich.

This kind of lifestyle attacks in spurts, and you tend to fall victim to it without realizing it, until one day you wake up and realize you’ve gained 8 pounds, you haven’t gotten laid in a month, you have a beard, and it’s gotten… unruly. Hitting your restart button when you’re beginning to drip with the congealed jellies of your own emotional juices is a tricky proposition, and to be honest I don’t know that I’ve ever figured it out. However, just today a friend introduced me to something I’ve never seen before.

In 1994 Henry Rollins wrote an Essay for Details magazine called “Iron and Soul” where he extols the story of how little Henry Rollins became the most intimidating man in rock, and… be it 15 years old or not… it’s fucking phenomenal. You don’t have to look hard to find out how razor sharp Henry is. I’ve had a quiet respect for the man since my brother told me stories about his shows at the not-yet-a-byob-strip-joint Outhouse when I was like 11 years old, so though I never really got into Rollins’ music, I never stopped admiring Rollins the man. This essay further solidifies his Heroic position in my personal pantheon of respectable musicians, and it comes at a very opportune time.

Y’see all of this sedentary nonsense is in direct violation to the very core of my being. To not act is to wither, and to wither is eventually to die… what better way to make it stop than to follow the Henry Rollins implied guide to personal awakening? I can buy some weights, get a gym membership, and begin the much vaunted process of self improvement until at some point I’ve either destroyed myself, or have achieved that same oneness with the Iron. A good friend on Sunday afternoon reminded me that the only thing we ever actually have any kind of control over is our actions (or in this case my lack of action), and to allow ones own actions to degrade ones life is tantamount to suicide.

So begin anew with me a voyage of self discovery and self improvement, peoples of the instarnats, and I’ll meet you in my garage where I’ll wrap you in duct tape and use you for a heavy bag.