So, I'm reading this book entitled, Solipsist.
Apparently, Henry Rollins is an author AND played music of some sort... of which does not interest me in the least.
I don't care much for him as a musician (or vocalist.. for that matter), but I'm quite impressed with this book in particular. Some might call him brutal...but the sort of sincerity he writes with really draws me in.

Now, my taste in books can go one of three ways...they're either wide-spread favorites, completely obscure, or absolutely hated by just about everyone who has read them. Regardless...I like this one enough to write a bit about it here. So! You can be the judge of what you find relevant or irrelevant in my blogging... and I'll just continue with these random posts and thoughts...

Solipsist caught my eye one wretched, cold night I spent in Waukegan, Illinois. Shut up in a hotel room for a week, I went out on a limb and spent 50 dollars just on cab fare to the nearest bookstore.
When I stumbled upon Solipsist...the title immediately lured me in. I was compelled to read the book in its entirety before even leaving the store. When I thought of all of the airports I would be in and out of that month, I decided to restrain myself.

Some may find the book above all, angst-ridden and even journal-like...but I find it surprisingly relieving.
With that damn Secret book, it's cult following, and the downpour of books quite similar, afterward... I found myself rolling my eyes most of 2009 at the fanaticism of it all.

With that said, I'd like to clarify... I don't consider myself an optimist, pessimist, or a cynic...I genuinely believe I fall somewhere in the middle. Sometimes, I'm gushy and optimistic, sometimes I see in black and white...and sometimes rain clouds follow me for what feels an indefinite period of time.

In any case, Rollin's depravity, sadness, loneliness, and seeming separation from most of mankind...has had me tearing up, chuckling, relating, and often smirking with each turn of the page.

Not to mention, the guy really has a style.. a voice. Even if you think he's a misanthropic pig, you can see that he was certainly literate and talented enough to capture a reading audience...be it small or large.


"I must tell you that I was always afraid of the fury with which I loved you. It overwhelmed me. I thought it beyond comprehension, therefore my silence."

(I mean...really? dude is all sorts of passionate.)