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Nov 5, 04 12:51 PM

The Pastel Sweater.

Pocho's_Best:Nov5:2004.jpg

There's a problem with being the guy who put a drug problem behind him.

I don't want to be that guy in the pastel sweater on the cover of People with the HIGH ON LIFE headline. I'm still a fuckup, still crazed and burning. It doesn't appeal to me.

(I am, however, rather high on life. Sorry.)

(And, self-medicating in the early hours of November 3rd, I was decidedly high on really obscene helpings of fried cheese, chocolate and sugar. My lardy feast of sorrow.)

But so much of the upcoming record is about drugs, or drug songs disguised as love songs, or songs about the girlfriend I used to get high with. I know I'm going to spend some time talking about it to the press. It's worrisome. I've done interviews here and there, and I tell my tale, or parts of my tale, noting the subleties and the nuances, that my story is more ambiguous than the template junkie arc, and that I don't necessarily disavow drugs (they saved my life as a teenager as surely as they quite nearly killed me as a 29 year old) but somehow it always ends up in the boilerplate HIGH ON LIFE mode.

It's dismaying. Who would want to wear the pastel sweater? I'm happier--loads happier--than I was in my long, dark night of the soul--but surely no saner. I'm not a guy who thinks that being irrational and unreasonable leads to better art--that's ridiculous--but still: I don't know if I want to be.

Posted by Mike on November 5, 2004 12:51 PM