I'm the son of Rage and Love
Happy Birthday, Billie Joe Armstrong. I know you'll never read this, but it makes me feel good to write it, anyway.
I can't even imagine the number of fan letters you must STILL get all the time, even though your address is (supposedly) a secret. Especially now, after all the hype of "American Idiot," your privacy must be nearly non-existent. I don't know what they say; I'm sure some of them must be crazy, or professing their undying love to you, or just simple expressions of respect and well-wishing. I hope not many of them are scary. I bet the writers of most of them weren't sniffling their way through writing it, though.
I can't begin to express or enumerate the ways in which you, your bandmates, and your music have affected and changed me, so instead I'm just going to talk about all the things, big and small, stupid and profound, that I love about you, and that make me happy.
I love that if we're talking about odds, you should never have made it. You're small and, truth be told, kind of weirdly built — big head, short legs, long neck, sloped shoulders, gnarly teeth, weird eyebrows, just nothing fits together quite right. You're from a poor family; you lost your father at the age of 10. You never finished high school. You're not a BAD guitarist, but you're definitely not the most original, or the most technically talented one, either. Your lyrics are smart, but again, taken on their own? Not always the most original, or brilliant. Yet somehow through pure will and fucking determination, you did what you always wanted to do, and you are fucking AMAZING at it. It means a lot to me that heart and love for what you do still counts for something in this world, that someone who isn't the best or the prettiest or the smartest can put all they have into their passion and make it work, and have it be amazing.
I love the friendship you have with Mike and Tré. I love that you made friends with two stupid boys, and then you decided you were just going to do what you loved, with your two best friends, and fuck everyone else. I love that you are still, at heart, just a bunch of stupid boys. And you never listened to the people who said that being immature and doing something worthwhile were mutually exclusive, or that when you "grow up" you have to give up on wasting time and being retarded with the people you were retarded with in high school.
I love how much you adore your family. I love Adrienne, and I love the two of you together. You're a beautiful couple, and your children are adorable, and I love that you are so devoted to their well-being. I love that your wife is curvy and ethnic and dread-locked and tattooed, and that you have not one, but three tattoos devoted to her on your body. I also love that you have one of each devoted to your sons. I would stop believing in love, more than a little, if you ever split with Adie. And I love how easy it is to see your love for her in your music, sprinkled through almost every album since you met. Those songs are some of my favorites.
I love you for "American Idiot." I loved you first for "Warning," because it was more personal, for me, and came at a very hard time of my life, but when "American Idiot" came out it literally changed my world. I remember being so fucking rocked by the words coming out of my stereo, so amazed that someone that I had never met could write words that fit so perfectly inside my head and around my heart. I remember crying by myself in my car, listening to "Jesus of Suburbia." I can't even count the number of other songs that've moved me so deeply... "She," "Waiting," "2000 Light Years Away," "Westbound Sign," "J.A.R.," and "Macy's Day Parade" among them.
I love you for the experiences I've been able to had that I would've missed had your music not entered my life. I loved seeing you back in high school with Justin and Deborah, and then again when you toured with Blink-182. I remember crying hysterically with thousands of other people all thrilling to the sight of you on stage. I loved that I could share that moment, that connection, with so many people. I've seen you 11 times, and it's still not old. I don't think it ever will be.
I love you for the people I've met because of your music. It's been over two years since I immersed myself in all things Green Day, and I'm still not sick of any of it. I met my first girlfriend because of you, and I've met more worthwhile, loving people than I can count because of you.
I love your stupid smile, and I love your weird-ass hair. I love that you dye your hair almost more frequently than some people change the sheets on their bed. I love that you break things without meaning to, and I love that you're inarticulate and grumpy in interviews. I love that you've been working with the NRDC, and that you're doing all you can to make people wake up and pay attention to the problems in this world. I don't love that we've hardly heard a word from you in like a year and a half now, exactly, but if taking a long break is what you and your friends and family need, then I want you to do it, because I love that you are happy, now. You deserve it.
So, thank you, Billie Joe Armstrong, for all that you do. Thank you for the music, the friendship, the inspiration, and the hysterical laughter that you have directly and indirectly caused. Thank you (oh god, here I go) for the rage, and the love. I hope your birthday is a happy and worthwhile one, and I hope we see you soon.
Love, Kat
I can't even imagine the number of fan letters you must STILL get all the time, even though your address is (supposedly) a secret. Especially now, after all the hype of "American Idiot," your privacy must be nearly non-existent. I don't know what they say; I'm sure some of them must be crazy, or professing their undying love to you, or just simple expressions of respect and well-wishing. I hope not many of them are scary. I bet the writers of most of them weren't sniffling their way through writing it, though.
I can't begin to express or enumerate the ways in which you, your bandmates, and your music have affected and changed me, so instead I'm just going to talk about all the things, big and small, stupid and profound, that I love about you, and that make me happy.
I love that if we're talking about odds, you should never have made it. You're small and, truth be told, kind of weirdly built — big head, short legs, long neck, sloped shoulders, gnarly teeth, weird eyebrows, just nothing fits together quite right. You're from a poor family; you lost your father at the age of 10. You never finished high school. You're not a BAD guitarist, but you're definitely not the most original, or the most technically talented one, either. Your lyrics are smart, but again, taken on their own? Not always the most original, or brilliant. Yet somehow through pure will and fucking determination, you did what you always wanted to do, and you are fucking AMAZING at it. It means a lot to me that heart and love for what you do still counts for something in this world, that someone who isn't the best or the prettiest or the smartest can put all they have into their passion and make it work, and have it be amazing.
I love the friendship you have with Mike and Tré. I love that you made friends with two stupid boys, and then you decided you were just going to do what you loved, with your two best friends, and fuck everyone else. I love that you are still, at heart, just a bunch of stupid boys. And you never listened to the people who said that being immature and doing something worthwhile were mutually exclusive, or that when you "grow up" you have to give up on wasting time and being retarded with the people you were retarded with in high school.
I love how much you adore your family. I love Adrienne, and I love the two of you together. You're a beautiful couple, and your children are adorable, and I love that you are so devoted to their well-being. I love that your wife is curvy and ethnic and dread-locked and tattooed, and that you have not one, but three tattoos devoted to her on your body. I also love that you have one of each devoted to your sons. I would stop believing in love, more than a little, if you ever split with Adie. And I love how easy it is to see your love for her in your music, sprinkled through almost every album since you met. Those songs are some of my favorites.
I love you for "American Idiot." I loved you first for "Warning," because it was more personal, for me, and came at a very hard time of my life, but when "American Idiot" came out it literally changed my world. I remember being so fucking rocked by the words coming out of my stereo, so amazed that someone that I had never met could write words that fit so perfectly inside my head and around my heart. I remember crying by myself in my car, listening to "Jesus of Suburbia." I can't even count the number of other songs that've moved me so deeply... "She," "Waiting," "2000 Light Years Away," "Westbound Sign," "J.A.R.," and "Macy's Day Parade" among them.
I love you for the experiences I've been able to had that I would've missed had your music not entered my life. I loved seeing you back in high school with Justin and Deborah, and then again when you toured with Blink-182. I remember crying hysterically with thousands of other people all thrilling to the sight of you on stage. I loved that I could share that moment, that connection, with so many people. I've seen you 11 times, and it's still not old. I don't think it ever will be.
I love you for the people I've met because of your music. It's been over two years since I immersed myself in all things Green Day, and I'm still not sick of any of it. I met my first girlfriend because of you, and I've met more worthwhile, loving people than I can count because of you.
I love your stupid smile, and I love your weird-ass hair. I love that you dye your hair almost more frequently than some people change the sheets on their bed. I love that you break things without meaning to, and I love that you're inarticulate and grumpy in interviews. I love that you've been working with the NRDC, and that you're doing all you can to make people wake up and pay attention to the problems in this world. I don't love that we've hardly heard a word from you in like a year and a half now, exactly, but if taking a long break is what you and your friends and family need, then I want you to do it, because I love that you are happy, now. You deserve it.
So, thank you, Billie Joe Armstrong, for all that you do. Thank you for the music, the friendship, the inspiration, and the hysterical laughter that you have directly and indirectly caused. Thank you (oh god, here I go) for the rage, and the love. I hope your birthday is a happy and worthwhile one, and I hope we see you soon.
Love, Kat