Oh dear me... Billy Corgan
Scanning the latest band blogs for up-to-date news is all well and good. But were you aware that, hidden in the archive sections of certain rock star blogs, lurks some of the most disturbing material ever posted on the net (and yes, we have seen Jack Tweed relieving himself over Jade Goody's thighs, thank you very much)?
Now, take a deep breath. Are you ready for this? Sure? Okaaaay...
I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU WHEN YOU LOVE ME I LOVE YOU WHEN YOU HATE ME I LOVE YOU WHEN YOU THINK I'M THE GREATEST THING EVER I LOVE YOU WHEN YOU FEEL I HAVE LET YOU DOWN I LOVE YOU BECAUSE I KNOW WHO YOU REALLY ARE...
Just who could be the author of this nonsense? Adrian Mole, perhaps? Pete Doherty at a push? Nope, it's Billy Corgan, whose blog is the first of three nail-bitingly awful pieces of online therapy you'll be reading about this week. A mixture of aggression towards his own fans, deluded hippy-babble and terrible grammar, you might think Billy's blog could stoop no lower than this "poetic" outburst, but it does.
The first time I ever witness nakedness on a woman is with my step-mother: she is still in her underwear, wearing some sort of loose t-shirt...unbeknownst to her, her left breast is hanging out of the top of her shirt, swinging down towards me as she screams...
For reasons probably not explicable to anyone other than the most experienced psychoanalyst, Billy occasionally likes to use his posts to recount his youth through a series of short stories. Some people might suggest that it's really not quite right to want to read the dribblings of a famous rockstar recalling the first time he felt aroused at a "hairless vagina" (I'm not making this up). But for those who do, you can always click here.
It's at frightening times like this that we need reassuring that the world isn't only populated by freaks. We need something sensitive. Something caring. Something that touches our souls.
if i were to fall in love with a new soul today it would be something i have never experienced before. the feelings i get that fall in the category of what i am calling "love" seem to constantly evolve as i gain new perspectives along this journey of my individual life. what was once love to me has been erased by what is now love for me
Um, I think I remember saying "sensitive, caring and touching" not "Fred Durst's New Age Love Poetry". Yes, the remnants of a Durst journal can still be traced and it's everything you imagined it would be, only with worse spelling. A mixture of aggression, deluded hippy-babble and terrible gram... hang on, we've been here already haven't we?
Time for one more, courtesy of The Others' frontman Dominic Masters. Not sure if he still technically qualifies as a rock star (or if he ever really did) but he's definitely one of the most ludicrously fascinating people I've ever met. Interviews with him normally swing between tearful outbursts, paranoid crack-talk and an eccentric fondness for fine cuisine. Thankfully, his blog sticks to such strangeness and is surely the only online journal around which can refer to "pecorino cheese" and "getting battered on intoxicants" in adjacent sentences, as if the two go hand in hand.
So there you go - three prime examples of rock stars spilling their souls online for reasons no greater than your own amusement. You'll spend hours laughing. Although, to be honest, you've probably already had that reaction listening to their records.
