Why I Love Henry Rollins. . .

Not that I actually need another reason to celebrate Henry Rollins, but this pretty much sums it up. During a spoken word performance this past spring, someone decided to cut out before the show ended; the attempt to escape didn’t go unnoticed by Rollins:

When a man with long, white hair left early, Rollins called him out. The guy started running out of the theater as Rollins yelled, “Run hippie.”

The event took place in an area pretty notorious for its 60s remainders, by the way.

You Thought Obama Would Do What?

A catalog of misplaced hopes.

New Year's Day

And a grand welcome to 2009.

Rather than reference an old (old?) U2 song, here's a little something by John Clare:

"The Old Year" 
The Old Year's gone away
To nothingness and night:
We cannot find him all the day
Nor hear him in the night:
He left no footstep, mark or place
In either shade or sun:
The last year he'd a neighbour's face,
In this he's known by none.

All nothing everywhere:
Mists we on mornings see
Have more of substance when they're here
And more of form than he.
He was a friend by every fire,
In every cot and hall--
A guest to every heart's desire,
And now he's nought at all.

Old papers thrown away,
Old garments cast aside,
The talk of yesterday,
Are things identified;
But time once torn away
No voices can recall:
The eve of New Year's Day
Left the Old Year lost to all.