Speaking of "sensitive rockers," on June 8, as you may have heard, Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo finally finished his coursework and graduated from Harvard. Ten days later, as you also may have heard, he married his girlfried, Kyoko Ito, in Malibu, Calif. In honor of both these simchas, we're happy to present an artifact that nicely combines the two. It's so much on our usual beat, but we've recently come into possession of an essay, titled "A Mad and Furious Master," Cuomo wrote for a Harvard English class in October 2004. It comes from a reliable and Cambridge-connected source who assures us of its provenance, and said source is exceedingly trustworthy on such matters. Want to read about the bespectacled singer's desire for a mate, his fondess for massage-parlor handjobs and internet porn, his self-imposed two years of celibacy, and the frequent wet dreams caused by said celibacy? Oh, it's all there. There's a sample after the jump, plus the whole thing as a Word file.
At first I felt very strong and enjoyed the challenge of disciplining myself. When friends asked in amazement if I found it difficult to abstain under these conditions, I answered stoically, "It's difficult, but probably not as difficult as kicking heroin". Things got more difficult, however, as my body realized that it wasn't going to get any release for a long, long time. I started exhibiting the classic signs of physical frustration: I tossed and turned in bed all night. I hung on for too long when girlfriends hugged me hello or good-bye (they had to pry me off). I spent extra time in the shower, soaping and scrubbing, wistfully. I even had my very first night-time accident, waking up and rolling over onto my back, tears filling my eyes.
I didn't make it any easier on myself by occasionally cheating a little, "accidentally" stumbling onto an adult site while surfing the internet.
"What's this??" I asked myself. "Rate-my-camel-toe.com? Disgraceful! I'd better click on some more pictures here just to make sure my eyes aren't deceiving me."
One time, I even made the incredibly stupid decision of going to a "pajama" party at the Playboy Mansion. I sat by the dance floor the whole night, twitching and drooling, slightly, as hundreds of nearly-naked women writhed en masse to the music. When a warm, wet, female mouth suddenly whispered in my ear, "Let me know if you see anything you like—I can make it happen," my glasses fogged over completely.
I seemed again to be experiencing more suffering than peace. I concluded that modern society was just not conducive to celibate living for a single, successful musician. Marriage, which once had seemed as undesirably permanent as a tattoo, now seemed to be the one, clear hope for my coming out of my longing. It would allow me to have a peaceful physical relationship with one person and continue my work in society without constantly having to fight or give in to the temptations all around. I promised myself to remain celibate until either my wedding day or the end of my vow, whichever came first, and set about trying to find a wife.