Love, Superheroes, and Narcotics

My Chemical Romance

Sort of like a neurotic version of Army boot camp, former Black Flag waver and current spoken-word poet Henry Rollins accomplishes more before noon than most of us do all day. Here's a look at Rollins' regimen on a typical weekday morning, brought to you by Outtakes:

6:45 a.m. All right. Another day rung in by my faithful alarm clock, a gift from Greg Ginn 25 years ago. Back then, we were just lowly punks and Black Flag was gonna set the world on fire. Now I'm an actor, a poet, an author, an entrepreneur... Damn, me then would've hated me now. But look at these biceps.

6:48 a.m. Warm up with 100 pushups, 100 sit-ups, and a jog.

7:30 a.m. In these few moments of untainted lucidity, I will review last night's stanzas. I must strive to find order. Poetry is order. The next anthology is ready, but I'm torn between titles: Everything I Know: A Bestiary or Stepfather's Bone Throttle Pederasty Mellows Out with Exercise.

8:45 a.m. Another call from Ms. Grant, my makeup artist. She says the lighting we're using on the current speaking tour is not very flattering.

8:52 a.m. Maybe she's right. When I get worked up, the veins in my neck spasm like epileptic pythons independent of my control. But there's no fucking way I'm putting on a turtleneck sweater.

9:33 a.m. Showered, dressed, ready. My neighbors are all off to their grinds, their cubicle warfare, silly office lusts, stagnant lives, kids who want to smother them in their sleep. Now all's silent, and I can really dig into those ab crunches.

10:26 a.m. Check the paperwork for my three record labels, publishing house, filming schedules. Maybe I'll update the 21361.com website, but right now I owe the third sweat of the day to my weight set in the garage.

10:48 a.m. Wheat germ and yogurt for late breakfast. While reading Blondie in the funnies, I realize that the day humanity understands the importance of rising above our inherent weakness will be the day I walk away from all this. Fuck the hippies. Fuck the punks. Fuck weakness. Strength of mind. Body. Soul.

Dagwood, will you ever get to nap in peace?

11:22 a.m. Before I step through this door into the land of corruption, hatred, and weakness, I solemnly swear to destroy all that endeavors to destroy me. Because I'm out of the fucking van, and I will pursue true rebellion. I will outlearn you. I will outearn you. I will outlive you.

Now off to the Gap for that turtleneck. -- Abel Folgar

Henry Rollins will present his spoken word at 7:30 p.m. Wednesday, October 12, at Carefree Theatre, 2000 S. Dixie Hwy., West Palm Beach. Tickets cost $21.50. Call 561-833-7305.

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