I got on a Henry Rollins kick on Youtube. Mentioned it to my roommate who is a big fan of his. So he gave me Solipsist, a "fiction" novel by Henry Rollins circa 1998. Rommate said he never had the courage to read it.
It's....intense. I say "fiction" because it's more of a disclaimer on Rollin's part than it actually relating to the narrative. It's basically paragraph after paragraph of Rollins' ranting, putting his damaged goods on display, gnashing his teeth at everyone and everything, going further and further down the rabbit hole of a singular, isolated existence where only strength and survival matter, and literally no one or nothing else does. It's not limped-wristed, laconic nihilism. It's a furious nihilism wrapped in utter, desperate selfishness. There's no traditional story here, just different moments and rants strung together.
It's plain awful at times and makes Rollins look a bit like a psychopath. He's clearly relating his personal experiences, and feelings and thoughts. I guess part of the reason I started getting back in to Rollins is I have a lot of directionless anger, so why not listen to the guy who has built a life on it, see where it's gotten him and how he handled. Turns out he had to grow up some. Solipsist was written in 1998 and 21 years can't help but change someone. Rollins now isn't the same guy that wrote the book then. I read some of what he says and it resonates deeply with me, how being alone by choice rather than playing "the game" and sociability in general has its drawbacks and consequences for people who feel pretty displaced, who are perhaps a wee bit too self-absorbed. Some of the things he says, I myself have thought and wished verbatim.
On the other hand the savagery with which he goes after the rest of existence, the sheer desire for violence just to exercise his own demons, the seething contempt he has for other people's choices in life and the arrogance of that, reading that has made me realize I'm not as angry as he was, or is. That I'm probably harder on myself for my anger than maybe I sometimes should be because I've not gone to these depths. That despite how I feel sometimes, I don't fundamentally reject people, or personal connections, or friendship. That I'm not so horribly damaged that I refuse to let people in for fear of what they'll see. This book might have done me some real harm as a younger guy, and driven me to some intense things. As an adult though, I think it's kinda helped contextualize my anger, and given me an example of what I might have started becoming but have moved away from.
So you know, a little light reading.