I no longer think about Stuart staying in. Ever. Such things don't exist for me. You'll find that once you quit the demon, modern rock songs, life begins to be sweeter in all its aspects. The sun, not concerned with the musical choices of simple beings like you, continues to shine in the sky, sending down its brilliant rays as if just for your little garden. The color green stands out everywhere, even in the winter, time's darkest and bitterest hour, when the soul shrivels up to the size of one of Pascal's fleas, and reels at its own insignificance and worthlessness. The smell of the air is fresh and sweet, like smoke from a crematorium. And your ears, no longer clogged with that horrible modern rock, are open to the sound of whistling at midnight, coming from the dark center of the universe. It took a lot of work to be the clear, content gardener I am, but I'm pretty sure, pretty damn sure, that anyone can equally easily quit listening the demon music.