Listen, I’m not a fan of cancer, of mental
illness. Yes, I think that little girl who’s
lost her hair is incandescently beautiful
in her struggle. To assume that because
I’m not going to copy and paste this
to my wall is somehow indicative of
apathy, of callousness, is – well – silly.
I’m here to keep in touch with my
friends from Betsy Carpenter’s
class at Emerson, circa 1994.
I’m here to promote my band,
to check in on my cousin’s boy,
the one who unabashedly
wears dresses and beams
in every picture like Mr.
America. So stop with
the percentages – the 3% who are
your REAL friends because they’ve
reposted, this alleged 97% I’m part
of, because I have not. I mean – can
we not share what is important without
these qualifiers and caveats? I imagine
us sitting, in real time, somewhere over
coffee, and you saying how much you hate
cancer, hate mental illness, and then asking
me to parrot this back to you, as 3% of your
REAL friends have done so. I don’t. So you
get your coffee to go and leave me at the table.