I can even answer the phone now. I used to just let it ring, thinking that it was Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds or NOFX calling. That they’d yell at me for missing their shows. Or maybe yell at me for going to their shows, but not clapping loud enough for an encore, or talking too much during the drum solo. You never know with musicians. But I don’t worry about that anymore.

And I don’t worry about the bands talking about me behind my back. It used to be, that whenever I read about Melissa Etheridge or Echo & The Bunnymen making tour plans, I figured there was someone in the band, probably the drummer, who would say, “Let’s not go to Fresno. That should tick him off.” But I don’t worry about that anymore.

Then there’s Kittie, Big Head Todd & The Monsters and Voodoo Glow Skulls. They’ve all got new tour dates, and I’m sure they’ll have my face plastered all over the concert hall on a poster saying, “Watch out for this man!” The bands hate me; they really hate me. But I don’t worry about that anymore.

So I’m ready to go outside. I’ve got my paranoia under control, and I’m ready to face the world. There’s only one thing holding me back.

I have more than 236,418 Rollins Band bootlegs that I downloaded using file-swapping services on the Web. And I know Henry Rollins is out there keeping track of these things. He’s bigger than me and he’s in touch with his anger.

Maybe I should worry about that some more.