Henry Rollins - What?...Who the?...What The hell?!?..Oh NO!

Okay.  Where do I start ?  Upon exiting my last post I was preparing myself for authoring my thoughts on an especially dispicable character of the first episode on Season Two of a new, fictional biker series - Sons of Anarchy.  I was prepared to devote one entire post in this blog to this solitary character, only because his portrayal had very much bothered my conscious thought long after the the episode was over.

I don't normally watch this sort of thing, but I have oddly found myself becoming more and more attached to this fictional drama.  You will just have to read my last post if you really need a more thorough explanation of why I am watching.  But be sure to pay attention in my previous post, to the part where I swear up and down that I am for the most part a strictly Discovery/History/Biography Channel Kind of Girl.

So.  I have found myself internalizing an incredible hatred for this one particular character.  I mean, for REAL!  For days, after the airing of the episode which was made dark by the portrayal of a realistic rape scene, the thought of this character consumed me with hatred that concerned me so much that I went so far as to access the Sons of Anarchy Website for cast information.  What kind of slimeball actor could so realistically portray such raunch?  He must be a lowlife that is a little too personally familiar with this scenario to portray such an absolutely believable character, perhaps one of the best on the show so far.  He disgusts me to the depths of my very being. 

This is SO absolutely not like me in any shape or form.  This is all fictional.  I have greatly more important things to do in the way of publishing to spare valuable time cruising the web for information on some Hollywood actor.  But something is driving me.  Why is that face haunting me?  Why am I letting some stupid fictional Hollywood garbage dig into my conscience like this?  WHO IS THAT MAN?!?

That's HIM!  He is a rapist!  And he has that steely look of someone who would be willing to do many other dispicable acts.  No kidding -  I actually feel a physical, stomach-hardening hatred for this character, and therefore for this Hollywood actor, too.  He is too real.  He knows too well what this character is really all about.  I have unfortunately at times found myself staring into the face of someone who repels me with every fiber of my being.  HE IS ONE OF THEM BECAUSE I KNOW HOW HE TRULY IS INSIDE, I am sure of it.  This picture embodies who this man really is!  I just know that he is bad, horrible, BAD.  My soul can feel it.

Aha!  The Sons of Anarchy cast link has given him away.  He has a name!  He is someone who is named Henry Rollins!  Before I can read the short biography that is associated with his printed name on the official Sons of Anarchy website, I have tabbed to a new window and begun a Google search before I read on.  Google Images would be a good place to start - shouldn't I know that face?  NO SHIT.  THIS is what immediately jumps off my computer screen at me...

Oh my!  That man is, FOR REAL, too horrible!  What?  Wait - is that a face of an evil man?  Could it be that this face, for me, possesses a fascinatingly interesting glimmer of an attitude with perhaps something to say?  Hm.  I am an intelligent and, I hope, a good person.  I know better to always keep an open mind as well as to take a look at things from perhaps a third-eye view.  Never judge without knowing, as so many have done to even my own self. 

From the Sons of Anarchy Website, link to Cast...
In describing Henry Rollins, the tendency is to try to squeeze as many labels as possible into a single sentence. "Rollins is many things," says the Washington Post, "diatribist, confessor, provocateur, humorist, even motivational speaker... his is an enthusiastic and engaging chatterer." Entertainment Weekly's list includes "Punk-rock icon. Spoken word poet. Actor. DJ. Is there anything this guy can't do?" TV Guide has more concisely called him a "Renaissance Man" - but if Henry Rollins could be reduced to a single word, that word would undoubtedly be "workaholic."


A man of words?  But words are an important part of my life, how could I not have heard of this Henry Rollins?  From John Steinbeck: "A man without words is a man without thought."  No way.  That would make Henry a thinking man.  I will bet he reads.  Who IS this guy?

A humorist?  Mark Twain has assured us: "Humor is mankind's greatest blessing." 
My father has taught us always to bless our lives with humor.  Now this guy is making my heart begin to race.

An enthusiastic and engaging chatterer!  Shivers are running down my spine.  An intelligent conversation.  Something I find myself longing for when day to day life sometimes leaves me wanting for - well, for - wanting for enthusiastic and engaging chatter.  I have got to find out what this enigma named Henry is chattering about! 

Renaissance Man? From Thomas W. Higginson: "Great men are rarely isolated mountain peaks; they are the summits of ranges."  This guy certainly seems to be a summit of ranges.  What is happening here?  I have some kind of "thing" where my life and it's lessons have frequently been touched and/or influenced by especially great and powerful souls - some were somehow physical fixtures in my personal life, some from afar.  This boy is afar.  Damn.  What is this new feeling now welling up in my formerly loathing depths? 


Oh no.  Looky here...

This guy is in actuality...pretty damn hot. 

But there's more...

You guessed it.  He is passionate in his work.  Mentally and physically.  Very physically, mm hm.  But a punk rocker?  That is so foreign from the music environment I have known, and I like to think that I have kept myself open to all genre of music.  Then again, persons are forever surprised that I am a thinking, intellectual biker, an environment that few others have known.  Being a biker is only one aspect of my person (and for the most part occupied so much of my life's pre- 40-something existance).  There is so much more to my life than my previous biker history.  Punk rocker.  I must remain open-minded and continue upon my quest to read about what makes this guy tick.  I must do a little checking around into this foreign punk world.  1961.  He's my age.  What road am I unwittingly embarking upon?  Why do I need to know?

Well.  This last image just makes me want to pull up a chair and and have a lean-into-each-other, enthusiastic and engaging chatter.  Why do I care?  Why can I NOT seem to be curious and curioser about this man?  Curiosity drives my life.  What is driving me about him?  I need to know who he is.  It's kinda starting to creep me out, this new need to know.  I have things to do.  I shall search on for a brief moment or two, until I have satisfied my self.

But who am I kidding.  Another intriguing image...

And now, I have arrived at YouTube.  Henry Rollins in the search box.  A whole new world is opening up before me.  I have immediately been floored by something titled Joe Cole, Parts I and II.  I am honestly, no shit, weeping.  I find myself needing to imbed these wondrous video clips into a very personal and emotional former post on this blog, a post that is devoted to a heinous murder and the unspeakable pain in the loss of a soul mate.  Henry's first spoken words to have reached me have reduced me to tears.  But in fact, my last statement is not a truth at all...for Henry Rollins' FIRST spoken words to have reached me were those that incited such an uncharacteristic, and deep, alarming loathing within me.

What invisible force or Greater Power is leading me down this unexplored path?   It is daunting to feel that a single person - a person who in no way is connected to my life nor has an inkling that I exist, is having such a grip upon my psyche.

Blah, blah, blah.

Therefore, I shall...

Rock on.