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Some anger and cussin’ and smack talking … eeek …

It occurs to me that the reason that I don’t really have a job per se – is that perhaps I’m not really meant to have a job. I try and get a job and it’s kind of funny, the only one I can actually manage to hack turns out to be a kind of … pretend job. This ends up being fine with me; because I should really be practicing. I haven’t heard anything about working from anyone for a couple of weeks. This is really okay. I don’t even care anymore.

I’ll say it again. I should really be practicing.

I don’t even know if I’m going to keep this up – here. I don’t know how well this went, here. I didn’t really publicize it, I didn’t really do anything about it. It was really just a fracturing of my brain onto four different corners of the internet. I already have a livejournal. I thought about doing some reviews … but what is the point of that when you have a pretend cigar job and you don’t really believe in it anymore? I don’t know what I really want to write about anymore. I don’t know if I really want to think about cigars while I’m smoking cigars anymore. I don’t know if I want to write about musicians when I’m listening to musicians anymore. I am thinking that it’s all just a huge ploy to get attention. I’m thinking that every time I lay down another letter – that this is also a huge ploy to get attention. I wonder what drove me in the past.

In the past, for instance, I sounded pure. Now, when I go back over what I’ve written – I sound a little desperate. And I don’t really care anymore. When you regularly see someone walk down the road in a thong everyday – you start thinking that there’s really not much you can do to distinguish yourself. And you’re not really thinking about quality either. There’s not much going on in your mind except for how you’re going to pop through the metal bubble.

The air is thick and lousy with musicians and artists. Every time I leave the house I want to choke. And it’s a bitter feeling. It’s not like an artist’s community feeling. It’s not even like music school – where there’s a sense of competition and you’re trying to find your place in a pecking order. It’s almost like you just want to hide, and say nah, I’m not going to say anything … I’m not going to be all like “me too, me too,” because even you’re in a band now and it’s become completely ridiculous. So ridiculous I literally want to barf. So I almost don’t want to tell certain people what I’m doing personally anymore. I literally changed the subject when I was about to talk about my work … my ideas. I’m going to screen my phone calls, because I have work to do this week. I’m not going to blog overly much about my ideas – because I am really protective about shit getting derailed.

It’s really important that I follow through on these new ideas. They’re different from the others. This is new stuff. This is stuff that might actually work – but I’ve got to get to a certain leaping off point with it all. And if I start talking to people about it, I already know what will happen. I’ll get “me too-ed.” And my little balloon will get busted. My wonderful mojo will get pissed on. My day that is about me, and my energy that I wanted to keep about my business will be redirected onto someone else. I’ll get one-upped and the metaphorical microphone will get grabbed from me.

I don’t rightly know if it’s because there’s an element of not being able to stand my success. And it’s not even suc-cess anymore … it’s just a little prog-ress.  It’s as if I need to be slapped down and sat upon. the crabs in the bucket analogy.  Except the crabs that are almost out of the bucket are looking back down at my ass even though they’re way ahead of me – and that’s not friggin fair!

Why would any success of mine be such a huge “thunder stealer?” Particularly at this point.  Why would I need to have drama thrown in my general direction ..?  So I don’t really know what it is. I just know that I have to stay away from it. I have to not be in a place where I say that I’ve got a recording session finally booked and sound tentative and quietly proud and hopeful about it – only to be told that (oh yeah!) … well they’ve got … uh, THREE sessions with EIGHT famous bands booked and so does their wife child momma and greasy grandma and two year old even though they aren’t even musicians (I exaggerate, but it’s your basic concept of not being able to just say – “oh, good for you.”  PERIOD). And it doesn’t matter … they’re feeling all casual about it and it’s no big deal … blah, blah, blah … these things happen every day, but we’re so happy for your little thing, what-was-it-again … nevermindmememememememememememeeeeeeeee …

I can’t deal with being around that energy. That dismissive bullshit that I can’t stand. I need people around me who are for me for once. That are focused on me. That say – “that’s her!” I know her! I love her music. I’m her fan! I want to be a supporter of “her.” Let me tell you … about her! Not, “let me tell you how she reminds you of this other person …” or worse, how she reminds you of “this other person … and then ME,” or maybe “… JUST ME!”

More importantly, that don’t punish me when I actually have the gumption to stand up for myself.  Because usually I’m quiet and allow myself to get walked all over in order to insure the comfort of others.  This is what I’ve allowed myself to get taught in relationships for the past however-many-years.  It’s mostly been because a lot of these people have been in church and music with me.  So much has been expected of me, but when I turn it around it mysteriously goes to radio silence.  I’m expected to be the bigger person.  But I’ve actually been told that I’m expected to be strong but they’re sorry they’re weak – I should forgive their failings. Excuse me?

So I took the liberty of having a little “failing” that made it necessary for me to have to go off somewhere and take care of myself.  Occasionally I get lonely, or sucked back in, or there’s guilt or whatever.  But usually I just own my choice and I move on.  I felt I shouldn’t have to be constantly available when others chose not to be constantly available to me.  I thought that when I looked up whore in the dictionary, that the difference between whore and what I was doing was that whores get paid.  And I decided that if I was going to sit around and suck for free; that whores had more integrity.

Skulking around like a sycophant does not keep focus on me, where I want it to be.  It was on me when I was confident, when I wasn’t apologetic about it. I actually thought it was my God-given right to self-promote. If there was a piano in the room, I would play it. I actually thought that it was deeply annoying that other people would play sub-standard crap on pianos. I worked hard to have something ready to casually play that was excellent and just off-the-cuff good. I let it slip for a while because it just didn’t matter. Then I stopped because I started having true contempt for all audiences that didn’t care to hear. Now I think that they should be reintroduced. I think I could find my audience. I owe it to them to look from them. I feel that it is not their fault that I have been hidden from them by imbeciles – that I am going to have to wade through people who lack discernment in order to find them. It will just be part of the work that I do.

It will be just a small part of what I provide. One of the many services that I do.  Which I hopefully will get paid for.

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