Durst Diaries: George Michael’s Revenge
aka Return 2 Senda
The Durst Diaries chronicle the fictional (maybe?) 2016 life of former Limp Bizkit frontman, Fred Durst.
It’s 2016 and our hero, Fred Durst, is parsing through his Limp Bizkit memorabilia, sorting items into a trash pile and a “pawn-able” pile.
In this, his leanest decade yet, Durst has eschewed much of the 90's material excess he accumulated during his bands heyday, rejecting the trappings of Clinton (Bill) era economics to devote his entire physical existence to the never-ending pursuit of one esoteric spiritual concept.
A concept he has termed the “Nookie.”
Spending most of his days in Tampa Bay, Florida, Durst roams the roads like a modern day Buddha, if Buddha had cruised the countryside in a 1998 Georgie Boy Cruise Master.
Possessing but a few meager material goods, including a rotation of a half-dozen of his trademark Red Yankees hats, Durst’s existence involves Rollin, Rollin, Rollin across this land — toward what? He knows not.
In a moment of hushed repose, sprawled out on the Cruise Master’s dilapidating upholstery, Durst comes across an old notebook with an early-years Ed Hardy design on the cover.
Wearily, he opens to the first page. His eyes begin to pore over his own handwriting: a desperate scrawl etched into the cologne-scented paper. It’s a letter he’s been meaning to send for nearly a decade…
Yo George Michael,
I knew when we decided to cover “Faith,” that we was playin wit fire… like da flames covering da back pockets of my Jnco Jeans.
I figured “it’s just one cover, bro, how could dis bite us in da ass?” And in da beginning, it seemed like we wud get away wit it.
Our rock star days wuz full-throttle: lots of orange skinned babes, free meth wheneva we wanted it, and a bus dat when you honked the horn, told casually racist jokes.
Middle schoolers everywhere was rockin backwards red Yankee hats, toking up oregano joints. Stikkin it to there fukn principals. “Rollin (Armored Assault Vehicle rmx)” got us in wit da urban community. Ja Rule asked us if we would bring Ashanti sum cases of bottled water backstage on tour, man! So dope!
Eywhere we went, dey treated us like Gawds: Gulfport, Little Rock, Ferguson. U name it.
But den. Well, u kno what happened den. Rolling Stone, said Nu Metal was “played out as Pac Sun” dissin us n 1 of our fave mall hangouts at da same time!
Label ppl stopped accepting our collect calls.
So we did it. We committed da ultimate musical sin. Our A+R, “Beefstikk” started renting out his body in Tampa Bay bathroom stalls to raise coke money for all da hottest acts of the 2000’s and there label ppl.
Jermaine Dupri. Christina Aguilera. Backstreet Boys. Mary J. Blige. Dude from U2. Destiny’s Child. Eve. BOTH Nellys. JA! J-Lo. Keys. Nas. Insink. Puffy. Britney ❤. Gwen.
We came together and scorched da legacy of 1 of da greatest songs ever put 2 wax. The guest stars dint think twice cuz of da money, coke and sweet Tampa bathroom stall stanky.
Dats when Limp Bizzy’s story go full circle… Cover 2 Cover
“Faith” 2 “What’s Goin On”
2 dis day, Marvin’s ghost haunts me. I hear his voice in my head all da time man. Torture!
He’s always talkin 2 me George. He keeps me fukkin awake at night bro.
I hear him callin: ‘Oh, sure, Fred, totally fair that I was the one brutally murdered by his own father.’
I can’t take it George. He’s not here n I cant say sorry to him, so u gotta help me instead man.
Runnin’ out of faith,
P.S. Will u read my fukkin screenplay, bro?
His ink’s idiosyncratic flourish on the final “o” bleeds a prismatic streak of nostalgia down the page, as a single, courageous tear trickles over it. Closing the cover, our hero casts his steely eyes through the windshield, toward the agonizingly gray Tampa dusk.
To be continued…
-words by Jesse Hagen