Henry Rollins: Here Comes a Regular
[Look for your weekly fix from the one and only Henry Rollins right here on West Coast Sound every Thursday, and come back tomorrow for the awesomely annotated playlist for his Saturday KCRW broadcast.]
I try to get myself up and moving as early as possible. Optimum is to be on the treadmill while it is still dark outside. As I plod away on my elliptical machine, I listen to music coming through two speakers, at high volume, that are aimed right at my face. I hope that this will wake me up. I cannot overstate to you how much of a morning person I am not. My incentive is that if I get to work early, I can get it all done early and be back in my own world.
In the evenings, I usually am pent up from a long day at the office. By the time the sun is setting, I want to get out and into the world. As it grows dark, I can feel setting in the melancholy that often accompanies the evening. I need noise, movement and light to stay on track and attempt to outrun my mind. I thought adulthood and middle age would greet me with a degree of calm. It didn't happen.
Over the years, I have set up a coffee route. I go to different coffee places in L.A. and the San Fernando Valley. Starbucks is a usual stop. They are plentiful and, at this point, I have developed a Pavlovian attraction to the amber lighting and interior design.
In an attempt to cover my man-without-much-happening-in-the-evenings-ness, I go to different locations, trying never to frequent one too often. I do this in hopes that the friendly people behind the counter conclude, "Hey, it's that '80s rock guy again, so cool that he comes in here now and then...," rather than, "Damn, that guy is here all the time, what a fucking psycho." There is a difference, you see. You see it, don't you? Of course you do.