I think I posted this already, but the story has come a long way since. I wrote Over The Wall, an essay about what the work of Henry Rollins' means to me, for a project Angela Bennett made for his fiftieth birthday that was on February 13th of this year. The project was completed and delivered to Henry, but it seemed to have hit some roadblocks on its way to public distribution. So Angela posted it online this morning. I'm not going to post the complete version here, but rather invite you to go to her place to do so. It's very weird to read one of your pieces after one year. You want to change everything.
Everybody has their own problems. You might have been born with no arms, you might have lost your parents in a civil war or you might have messed up your knee and killed your chances at playing hockey on a professional level. These are all valid problems to me. You life dictates the scope of your problems. When you’re bleeding, many will tell you: ̈look at this guy laying on your right, he has a severed leg, do you hear him complain? No, so take a number buddy. ̈ It’s true, some people can survive a severed leg. It’s also a fact that some commit suicide over a lost love or a wasted career opportunity. When your problems make you wish you didn’t wake up this morning, they are valid for me.
My problem is, and always will be alienation. For people like me, there is a wall that separates us from the rest of mankind. The wall makes impossible any attempt to live the moment like the others do. You can’t scream your joy when you’re happy, you can’t pound on the first victim when you’re mad or go to bed at night to sleep soundly. No, all you have is the wall and the sounds from the other side.