Whenever I feel like shit, I usually resort to two things which automatically make me feel better: Music and books.
However, I’ve recently come to realize that both of these can also cause a shitty feeling when they’re associated with such a heavy load of negativity, it hurts my head.
The books I read are all by Stephen King. The guy writes horror like too much of a pro, and his descriptions are brutal. So when he describes the death of a child, or the death of a dog, or the death of a major character, it makes me feel horrible, because he makes it seem all too real.
Then, there’s music. I absolutely LOVE the music I listen to. But sometimes the songs take on a darker tone when I think of the respective artist or band.
- Kurt Cobain is dead, with the shadow of drug abuse and suicide looming above him
- Janis Joplin is dead, also with the shadow of drug addiction and overdose
- Jim Morrison is dead, with the shadow of a lifetime of substance abuse
- Jimi Hendrix is dead, same drug-shadow looms again
- Chuck Schuldiner is dead, with the enormous shadow of cancer looming high and mighty
- Tristessa of Astarte is dead, same gigantic shadow of cancer
- Mia Zapata is dead, with the even more monstrous shadow of brutal rape and murder above her grave
- Decapitated’s drummer is dead and their lead vocalist is a vegetable
- Michael Jackson is also dead, and seems like even after his death, the grim shadow of his alleged child-molestation charges still sticks to him like a leech
- All punk and riot grrrl bands I listen to have broken up, so did Black Sabbath, and so did Arafel
- Arch Enemy sold out
- Phil Anselmo is a white supremacist
- Rammstein are (allegedly) Nazis
- Marilyn Manson’s lost his fucking mind…
Why do my favorite means of escape have to be tainted with so much bullshit? Still, I love all of these artists and their music, and still I love Stephen King’s books. And if I didn’t have that, I might as well go coffin-shopping, because seriously, life without music and books is a fate worse than suffering.
I need to go see Disturbed’s performance in July to hold on to the belief that there are bands out there who have not died, or got sick, or OD’ed, or sold out, or became hateful bastards, or broke up.
And I need to get a new Stephen King book because, well, just because. As if I need a reason to get another King book. His fiction owns my reality, and that’s a fact.
Peace, love and death metal for life