Henry Rollins, his Fairey and my Disappointment.

On Sunday I drove down to Washington DC to see my favorite writer and spoken word artist Henry Rollins perform.  The show was amazing as usual. In fact, it was better than usual. It was being filmed for broadcast so he really went for it and it blew my mind. The show ended I walked out of the theater doors feeling so inspired and ready to run at life head first. You would think that nothing could ruin the feeling of just seeing my favorite artist do the best show I’ve ever seen him do. Oh no, something very simple could ruin that for me. Two steps outside of the theater doors in the lobby of the building I notice that people are carrying around rolled up posters. So I think FUCK YEAH I’m getting one of those to add to my collection of Rollins tour posters. I look everywhere and can not find posters for sale anywhere. So after awhile I force myself to ask someone where they go theirs and they kindly point me in the direction I need to go. I find an empty table with no one there and no posters in sight. Immediately, I’m so upset that I’m sick to my stomach. I missed it, I didn’t get a poster, how could have this happened. I have a poster from every tour I’ve ever been to. Then it gets worse, I find out that it’s a limited run of posters done by artist Shepard Fairey based on a very famous photo taken by Glen E. Friedman. All of them numbered and sign by Rollins, Fairey and Friedman. The level of disappointment that took over my mind and body was so intense that my hands went cold and sweaty and my feet numb. I couldn’t not shake the fact that I didn’t not get this poster. I drove the four hours back from DC in silence obsessing over the fact I fucked up. I should have got there sooner. I shouldn’t have went to get something to eat before the show. I shouldn’t have slept as late as I did that day. I should have driven down to DC the night before and slept in my car outside the theater. I deserve that poster more than anyone else at that show. I almost positive that nobody else made an eight hour round trip in one day to see Henry Rollins. How did this happen? The even more aggravating part was I saw people carrying more than one poster. I should have grab one from them and ran for it. That’s what I should have done but I didn’t instead I drove home sulking and beating myself up for not being on top of things. Now I see this poster on sale on ebay for hundreds of dollars. There’s pieces of shit out their who bought more posters than they wanted or needed just so they can resell them at a grossly inflated price. It makes me so angry. It’s days later and I’m still pissed. FUCK!

 

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