I always get giddy at the opportunity to write about Henry Rollins. Last time it happened, Henry’s words were a virtual Christmas present. This time, I’m navigating through unfortunate circumstances, which sucks. Henry rarely ends up in the gossip pages. Even when he writes stuff that I disagree with, I usually like the way he says things. This time? Henry sh-t the bed, rolled around, and let it dry. Then he jumped in again and went slip-sliding in the mess. The dude should have never said what he said, and he said it terribly. Henry realizes this now and is attempting to make amends.

Here’s what happened: Rollins writes a regular column for LA Weekly. He wrote a bizarre piece called “F— Suicide” in reaction to the untimely death of Robin Williams. It was a knee-jerk reaction, which is not unlike many of Henry’s rants. BUT. Suicide is not a topic deserving of such treatment. I understand that Henry has lost some friends to suicide. He’s suffered a traumatic, near-death experience of his own (Henry watched his friend get murdered in a robbery gone bad. He talked about it on Unsolved Mysteries, and I saw him discuss it on tour years ago.) Henry himself suffers from depression. He has very strong feelings on pushing through life, but what he says here goes too far. The full column is here. I’m going to oversimplify and crib the last few paragraphs:

I get it, but then again, maybe I don’t.

When someone negates their existence, they cancel themselves out in my mind. I have many records, books and films featuring people who have taken their own lives, and I regard them all with a bit of disdain. When someone commits this act, he or she is out of my analog world. I know they existed, yet they have nullified their existence because they willfully removed themselves from life. They were real but now they are not.

I no longer take this person seriously. I may be able to appreciate what he or she did artistically but it’s impossible to feel bad for them. Their life wasn’t cut short — it was purposely abandoned. It’s hard to feel bad when the person did what they wanted to. It sucks they are gone, of course, but it’s the decision they made. I have to respect it and move on.

F— suicide. Life isn’t anything but what you make it. For all the people who walked from the grocery store back to their house, only to be met by a robber who shot them in the head for nothing — you gotta hang in there.

[From LA Weekly]

At the very least, Henry’s column should have contained a phone number to the US national suicide hotline (1-800-273-8255). The column as a whole was awful and not simply insensitive but cruel. I suspect (and this is an uneducated guess) that Henry was writing through a defense mechanism, which could have been prompted by his own depression. His column almost seems motivated more by fear (the desire to write suicide victims off to protect himself) than anger. This in no way excuses what Henry wrote. He’s been feeling the heat and offered a seemingly genuine apology:

For the last 9+ hours, I have been answering letters from people from all over the world. The anger is off the scale and in my opinion, well placed.

The article I wrote in the LA Weekly about suicide caused a lot of hurt. This is perhaps one of the bigger understatements of all time. I read all the letters. Some of them were very long and the disappointment, resentment and ringing clarity was jarring.

That I hurt anyone by what I said, and I did hurt many, disgusts me. It was not at all my intent but it most certainly was the result.

I have had a life of depression. Some days are excruciating. Knowing what I know and having been through what I have, I should have known better but I obviously did not. I get so mad when I hear that someone has died this way. Not mad at them, mad at whatever got them there and that no one magically appeared to somehow save them.

I am not asking for a break from the caning, take me to the woodshed as much as you see fit. If what I said has caused you to be done with me, I get it.

I wrote something for the LA Weekly that they will post on Monday.

I wanted to get this out at this moment.

I am deeply sorry. Down to my marrow. I can’t think that means anything to you, but I am. Completely sorry. It is not of my interest to hurt anyone but I know I did. Thank you for reading this. Henry

[From HenryRollins.com]

The dude knows he messed up. This feels like a real, honest to goddess apology and nothing like, say, Gene Simmon’s sorry-not-sorry statement from a week ago. Henry cannot erase what he wrote (on the internet, everything lives forever), but it’s obvious that he feels terrible. That goes a long way in measuring sincerity.

On a related note, Dustin Rowles of Pajiba (who lost his own father to suicide) wrote an amazing piece on whether it’s okay to call suicide selfish. You should read it.

Photos courtesy of WENN