You Are Here

Dear Slingshot Dakota,

I saw you last night, playing in a tiny, cramped basement that smelled like beer & sweat. You were fantastic. I want to go to your house in the middle of the night and stand outside your window playing “In Your Eyes” from a boom box held over my head.

I just wanna say thanks for booking this entire tour as all-ages shows. And thanks for being so damn nice. Like, seriously, you guys? You’re so cute I want to vomit. I mean, have you seen the cover for your album, Their Dreams Are Dead, But Ours Is the Golden Ghost!?

So, yeah, anyways. You fell in love with Ohio! but I fell in love with you.

Love,
Madeline

P.S. You like Fugazi? And do a totally rad cover of “Waiting Room?” It’s love. In a big way.

Dear Henry Rollins,

I need help. Specifically yours. You’re probably the only person on the planet who can be of assistance in this time of need. You see, every year for Christmas, “Santa”–also known as “my mother”–gives me a self-help book. Dude, when even Santa thinks you need to learn a few lessons from Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff For Teens, then you know you have a problem.

Therefore, I need someone older, wiser, and more badass to tell me to stop being a pansy-ass motherfucker. I used to have a friend who would do that, but she moved to Florida and long-distance chastising isn’t as effective. So the position’s open, and I think you would be perfect for it.

See, you’re really kind of intimidating. You are quite large. You’re Henry Rollins! It would be totally awesome if you could pop up in my life every so often (for example, when I am being passive and letting people walk all over me) and tell me to stop being so lame and grow a pair. I need you around to dispense little gems of wisdom like these:

“When you start to doubt yourself, the real world will eat you alive.”

“Don`t do anything by half. If you love someone, love them with all your soul. When you go to work, work your ass off. When you hate someone, hate them until it hurts.”

“Half of life is fucking up. The other half is dealing with it.”

You could save me, Henry. You could be my tattooed fairy godfather. We could go for walks and eat grilled cheese sandwiches. We could drink black coffee and stare at the wall.

So what do you say, man? Help a kid out.

Love, Madeline