Kris L.

Demon Cleaner
2002-01-12 01:58:46 (UTC)

An open letter to Aaron Lewis

It's been an interesting New Year thus far. A TOTAL
STRANGER made out with me a week ago, apparently because
the band I'm in rocks so fucking hard. Too bad it's not my
music...but what can I ask for, really? The girl looked
like Jennifer Lopez and has a cool name that I won't
disclose HERE.

Anyway, about this whole music debate I've been having in
my head...I don't think it's fair for me to ask that the
world be changed enough to make the kind of music I like.
the reason I say that is because it's all a matter of
opinion what people like or don't like. I hate Creed. I
hate Nickleback. I hate Staind. But who am I to say what
you people should or shouldn't like? I'm no one to say
that. I'm not the arbiter of taste and good judgement for
the whole world.

I guess I'm all wound up because I heard that "It's Been A
While" song, and it made me sick. Some guy, older than ME,
trying to blame his problems on the whole world. Guess
what, Aaron Lewis...life is fucked up sometimes. We can
only control so much of it, and when we lose control, we
can't blame it on anyone else. I have so many problems
right now that are affecting not only me, but people I care
about, and it's my fault entirely. I'm trying to figure out
a way to make good, but who knows how? What I won't do is
write a song saying, "Oh, I'm a loser, waa, daddy you were
mean to me." Fuck that and fuck that GUY for doing that and
being a millionaire for it. Also, it makes me mad because
he still writes those songs. I don't care if he feels like
that on the outside. I don't care how long it's been since
he held his head up high. He is adored by kids everywhere.
Granted, it's because he's turned emotion into a formula,
but we won't go there. I seriously doubt his emotions, and
I give people the benefit of the doubt in that area.

Too bad, so sad, grow up and get on with your life. Don't
blame anyone but yourself if you can't get over some hump
that your dad beat into you. You're in your late twenties.
I'm in my mid-twenties and had a dad who, if he wasn't
ignoring me, belittled me to the point of non-existence. I
also have fucked up my life. The only thing I feel is
regret about it, but why waste regret on a song, rather
than change my life and write songs about other stuff? I'm
not saying everyone should write songs about what I want
them to, but god damn it, not everyone needs to hear a sob
story about some loser.

And this is coming from a loser. Trust me, this isn't
some "pity me" statement. It's a fact. I have no good job,
I'm in debt to my closest friends and family, I don't have
a girlfriend (mostly due to money), I have a messy car, old
clothes, and all the other things I consider to be
attributes to my depressed state of living. But sometimes,
I'd rather hear a guy tell me about it, then say "fuck it"
and either have a drink, take some drugs, or blow his head
off. Why can't this stuff end in apathy? Or even TRAGEDY?
It's all sugar-coated. The guy from Creed even did it. That
whole thing about "My Own Prison." Give me a break. He
lived a middle-class life that he abandoned to get fucked
up with his college buddies, then wrote an album about how
sad he was that sounded like an eighth grade failed suicide
attempt. I will give them credit for writing happy music
now that they are successful and off the drugs. But so
what...it's still not good music by any means. Give a
monkey a pen and he'll give you the second-rate pop songs
they write. Whoa...coming off as a review here...

Back to what I was saying a minute ago, about saying "fuck
it..." I don't know if any of you have noticed, but Staind
has this thing about ending on a down note, like he's not
even concerned with making life better. He is concerned
with forgetting what's wrong, but not fixing it. And that's
OK. He's sort of saying fuck it, but in the end goes right
back to the whining party. It's not even rock and roll, and
you can't pretend that it is. Rock and roll was supposed to
be a party for the broken-hearted. Lonesome town was full
of rockers. Now it's full of money-grabbing, formulaic
tripe.

Like I said, I'm not one to judge, but these turkeys gave
me good reason to.

What the hell, man, I just need to lighten up. Or something.

Gonna go eat some pot roast now. Take care, chickadees.
Kris L.
[email protected]


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