Hank

For some reason, I stopped keeping such close tabs on Henry Rollins. I spent many formative years loving him, loving his books, loving every word that came out of his mouth. I'd see him as often as I could and long wistfully for him for weeks after seeing him. This was a serious thing I had going with him.

Then I got busy or I stopped reading altogether which means I stopped reading Hank. Or I thought I was post-Hank. Ye gods! Post-Hank?!

This morning, I came across Hank in a most unexpected place, and it all rushed back to me.

I used to fight the pain, but recently this became clear to me: pain is not my enemy; it is my call to greatness. - Henry Rollins, "Iron and the Soul"

p.s. I know that's a pretty weird image for me to choose. He definitely looks better elsewhere. But I wanted to talk about this: why is that what he's wearing?!?

image via Cville