I counted a mere three sips of water, and even fewer gulps of air, as Henry Rollins talked non-stop for three hours last Tuesday at the Harro East Ballroom. The way he overlapped stories and moods was brilliantly put together. It wasn't so much a diatribe as it was a conversation where you're just too enthralled to participate.

Standing in what frequently looked like a martial arts pose, Rollins went from the election to the war to world travel to Van Halen fans to his relentless urge to stick it to the man, and to the discovery that sometimes, he is the man. It didn't have the cadence of spoken word per se, but Rollins' flow and eloquence was so riveting that three hours flew by. I did find it funny that after all his aversion to celebrity and his claims that he ain't one himself, when I handed him a copy of his interview in last week's City he promptly autographed it.