THE HAUNTED frontman Peter Dolving has posted the following message on his MySpace page:
"Spend so much time trying to be something. Someone. But there is nothing in the clothes you wear. Nothing in the things we carry.
"Identity is the result of experience, needs, love and desire. That's all. That's all you're going to get, no matter how hard you try. No matter how devoted or smart you are. You can't change what or who you are, only your approach to it, and how you choose to carry that.
"There really are just two ways about it all: One with dignity, and one without.
"I'm not saying life is without pain. Fuck no. Life is filled with it. So? You and me are no exceptions. We are human beings doing the human thing. Making mistakes, falling down, sometimes being stepped on or stepping on someone else.
"But where is the dignity in living life through fear? Fear of rejection. Fear of violence. Fear of life. Fear of acceptance. Fear burning like a fucking blowtorch at you. I face that fear everyday as best I can. No it's not easy. But it's necissary. I am worth it, man. So are you. No one else can ever really touch you. Even when they shove their bullshit over you, or smash you face in. Fuck it. It hurts like a mutherfucker, but the real enemy as to how you live is always ourselves. Whether we manage to tell ourselves, 'Hey man! You're worthy, you're a fine human being. It's OK to be weak today. You have to give in to the things that break you. The things that drag you down and humiliate you in your own eyes.'
"What other people think about me is NOT important. How I feel about me is.
"I stepped out of the tour bus one early morning somewhere in Germany to buy milk. At the counter inside was this skin and bones, weary young blond kid. He looked like he'd done waaaaaay to much cheapo MDA, thinking it was E. He had it down about this world. I could see it. I know this guy listens to remixed SCOOTER albums, 'Best Of Gabba Hits 16', and 'Deep Goa Super Trance Hard Techno Elevation 5'. Right...
"So it's 5.30 in the morning and out comes Mr. Self-Righteous Whatever Man. Me. Mohawk. Rolled up striped Fred Perry sweats. DEAD KENNEDYS sleeveless t-shirt, and reaaaaaaally worn Converses... I pick two half gallons o' milk and go over to the counter to pay. I realize I'm a buck short. Now on the counter there's a little saucer with change. You've seen them, everywhere in the western hemisphere there are little saucers where if you like you can leave spare change if someone else is short on change. Or so thinks I...
"'Vatt are you doing!?' the angular little blonde kid spits at me as I pick out coins from the saucer to pay my milk. 'You kenn natt do dat!' I look at him in disbelief and tell him, 'Yes, I can. Obviously.' He sternly repeats himself and his skinny face turns to a bloatchy red, ears turning into warning lanterns and I ask the kid if he's serious. Oh yes, he is. I cannot do that. I ask him what he thinks those coins are for, and he responds, 'Not for you!'
"OK, it's 5.30 in the morning. I want to kill the kid right there, reach over and just fucking jerk his head sideways to hear it snap. But there's a glasswindow separating his reality from mine and he's got my milk and the money I gave him on his side of the glass. On the other side of the glass he cusses at me in Czech, or Serbian. I dodge the wave of rage really poorly. Thinking 'fuck it,' and turn to walk out of there, mumbling 'asshole.'
"Too early, too fucked up, too fucking German to even deal with, his little sweaty blonde bangs comin down all 1934 on my aggrevated ass. 'You are dee asshoole!' he calls after me. Almost by the door. I stop. Turn around and walk back to the glass cage. I look at him and I tell him, 'Tomorrow I'm in a different city playing my music to a thousand people, two weeks from now I'm in a different part of the world rocking out like a mutherfucker, having fun and making money. A year from now I will have travelled around the world twice, seeing all kinds of cool and amazing shit you only dream of. Now, dude, tomorrow when you are sitting here at this underpaid shit job, you will know that next year when you sit here, this is a great opportunity for you. And in ten years when you manage some shithole like this, providing for the cellulite ridden cow who spawned your diseased offspring, wearing your ass to the bone sitting on it all day long — think back on this moment. And know you're always going to be fucked. Now give me back my three euros, fuckhead.' Steaming, he gave me my money. I left.
"As I got back on the bus, the sense of victory never came. I sat there feeling like a dumb-ass. Because I lost it. I lost my patience, I lost my dignity and pissed it all over thing poor pathetic dude who thought I was the enemy, or someone not worthy of the coins in the saucer. I made him my adversary. Fucking bullshit that was. Eventually I let it go and went back to bed. Fuck the milk, I had some OJ and a sandwich and slept til noon. But I did get something from that gas station. I realized I'm an asshole too if [I] don't check myself."