Dear Lit,
Yeah, it’s pretty easy to write a hit rock song about self-sabotage that lights up an entire generation when you’re cool, isn’t it? But when you were busy making millions singing about parking your car on the lawn and screaming at some poor woman, did you ever think about people like me? What about the everyman or woman who engages in daily self-sabotage? Are there to be no groupies for us? No adoring fans for self-hating losers? No panties thrown at our be-Croc’ed feet? I say enough is enough.
I say, nay, decree that it isn’t any less bad-ass that I eat an entire pizza without taking dairy pills, knowing full well I’ll be hot boxing my bedroom with my own farts all night and barely sleep a wink. You can’t put that to a catchy guitar riff? I call that a skill issue. My skill issue, sure, but still. What about how I only put 20 minutes in the meter knowing the doctor’s office isn’t even going to call me back there for another 30? That sounds pretty hard to me. Or try this: I called my mom when I already knew she was having a bad day. Talk about masochistic! But you’re trying to tell me I can’t seduce a woman who ignores red flags with a chorus about any of that?
My blatant disregard for myself is no less rock n’ roll just because I don’t have spikey frosted tips. We’re not all lucky enough to be alcoholics in an abusive relationship, okay?
I work hard to ruin my life every day in every conceivable way and I deserve to sell out a stadium! And trust me, I’ve tried! They do not like that I keep calling! But I will not stop trying! I won’t stop starting shit with people on Instagram and ruining my entire day, and I won’t stop writing songs about it and sending the lyrics to managers begging them to take me on! I refuse to be silenced by your shittier-than-thou attitude or by any venue’s cease-and-desist letters! My liver may be intact and I may have a spotless driving record, but I am a piece of crap, too, dammit, and I deserve to be respected as such!