Henry Rollins, "The First Five"
From the back cover: �These books have been given every bad review in existence.�
Wow. So this is how it feels to hold a position in the majority. Neat.
�Cause yeesh, this was terrible. Worse, since this was a complete collection of his first five books (High Adventure in the Great Outdoors, Pissing in the Gene Pool, Art to Choke Hearts, One From None and Bang!) I would finish one �book� and say good god, thank Christ that�s over, and then realize I still had more to plow through...
Well, let�s just say it was pretty depressing.
I think I�ve stated how I don�t like poetry. This is the perfect example why. Allow me an excerpt:
The girl who moves with rustling musicSnakes
She has a head full of snakes!
When I see her
I feel like one of those snakes
Writhing
Squirming
Did you hear me?
Medusa
I burn for you
Sweat
Muscles pull
My heart
Writhing, squirming
Love me once
Then turn me to stone
Medusa
Snakes
Medusa
When will this end?
Three hundred and eighty-five pages later, as a matter of fact.
Even the short stories suck. How many times can you read about how Rollins hates everybody and yet is lonely, but at the same time wants to shoot everyone?
Forty-seven times, as a matter of fact.
The funny thing is, if you�ve ever heard his spoken word act, he�s quite a funny guy, kind of like a profane Garrison Keillor. During his act he tells stories of various people, offers little insights, and he�s even been deep, if you can imagine such a thing.
That�s what I was hoping for with this book, but instead I hear him talk over and over about how he is �like the color black,� he is �an instrument of death,� he is �a disease.�
Yeah, and I�m bored. Really, I think Rollins just needs a hug. But lord knows after reading this, I�m not gonna do it.
