I'm whining....AGAIN!!!
Well it's been an interesting year. Up, down, sideways, sometimes I'm not even sure what direction things are going in.
I got a couple of calls while I was at dinner with my friend Melchoir and Mr. Loudermilk tonight at Killer Shrimp (if you live in LA, GO THERE!!) The upshot of it was that two major gigs, one a tour with orchestra, another with quartet are dead. DOA, finito, done. To say that this is a major dissapointment would be an understatement. It's a fucking disaster.
I've been told, "Success comes to those that persevere" or "good things come to those that wait". If course I stopped believing the latter a long time ago, but the perseverance one sounded good. It was a weird music school assumption that if you practiced hard and did your etudes that you'd eventually get a job.
There was a time, when I believed that if I was a good person, worked hard, and lived frugally, and most of all followed my dreams, that I'd do ok(THANKS MOM AND DAD). Sure, I had some problems with frugality at first, but over time I've gotten quite good at it. Lets not forget prayer....that's also supposed to be a very important part of making things work. (BULLSHIT!!)
Well...I've done all that. I've worked my ass off, I've lived frugaly, I've practiced my etudes, done my audtions and worked a ton of odd jobs in between. I've been as good a person as I can be (and discovered I'm not nearly so good as I'd assumed I was), and yes.........I've prayed plenty. I've persevered in the face of overwhelming odds, in spite of failure after failure I've kept going. I've sacrificed a good part of my youth, my hope, more than a little sanity, and a helluva lot of my (and other peoples) money, trying to get this going. I've done all of this pretty much by myself. Cerainly I've had some (but not much) help from family, and I've got a network of good friends; but I've done this without the normal emotional frameworks that so many people cling to. No girlfriend, fiancee, wife, or any immediate emotional support.
I've used all my faculties trying to do this. But as plan after plan falls through, again, as I sit here and watch the last few dollars trickle out of my account, again, and watch the food disappear from the cupboard, again, I can't help but think, "What the HELL am I doing?" Why the hell am I putting myself through this. What can this possibly hold for me that makes all of this worthwhile?
This is what I'd like to say. I quit, I'm finished. This is the end, I can't fucking stand living like this anymore. I don't care about this stupid ass shit anymore. I just want to live without feeling like I'm some kind of fucking failure all the time.
That's what I'd like to say.........but I won't. I won't because I still know what I want and what I want is this: I want to play music, I want to practice it, to hear it, to experience it, all the time. Because I know music and I can play it like very few others, because I'm goddamned good at it. Because it's in my soul, it's all I ever want to do.
According to most people that I talk to this makes makes me lucky, even blessed. But these are the people that probably call survivors of major disasters "blessed" as well. It's a curse, because I know what I want...but I can't make it work. Because all I want to do for the rest of my life is make music at a level that satisfies me; and I do, all the time. But I can barely live. Every time I think I've made it, everytime I think I've got something, it falls apart.
I've done everything that I was supposed to do. But, as may be apparent to all readers out there what you're "supposed" to do is a crock of crap. Allways has been, all that shit that people talk about "perseverance" and "prayer" and "hard work" and all that bullshit is just that, bullshit. I can't begin to count the number of "hardworking", talented musicians just like me that never make it. That burn out, or spend thier lives working bullshit side jobs and eventually fall out due to injury or some other malady. Maybe that's my fate, and if so fine. Because I'll never quit.
I'm sick, and I'm tired, and I'm lonely, and I'm destitute, and I just don't know what to do.
Oh well, I guess I'll just get up tommorrow and try again.
God I'm fucking sick of this.
....and yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.
I got a couple of calls while I was at dinner with my friend Melchoir and Mr. Loudermilk tonight at Killer Shrimp (if you live in LA, GO THERE!!) The upshot of it was that two major gigs, one a tour with orchestra, another with quartet are dead. DOA, finito, done. To say that this is a major dissapointment would be an understatement. It's a fucking disaster.
I've been told, "Success comes to those that persevere" or "good things come to those that wait". If course I stopped believing the latter a long time ago, but the perseverance one sounded good. It was a weird music school assumption that if you practiced hard and did your etudes that you'd eventually get a job.
There was a time, when I believed that if I was a good person, worked hard, and lived frugally, and most of all followed my dreams, that I'd do ok(THANKS MOM AND DAD). Sure, I had some problems with frugality at first, but over time I've gotten quite good at it. Lets not forget prayer....that's also supposed to be a very important part of making things work. (BULLSHIT!!)
Well...I've done all that. I've worked my ass off, I've lived frugaly, I've practiced my etudes, done my audtions and worked a ton of odd jobs in between. I've been as good a person as I can be (and discovered I'm not nearly so good as I'd assumed I was), and yes.........I've prayed plenty. I've persevered in the face of overwhelming odds, in spite of failure after failure I've kept going. I've sacrificed a good part of my youth, my hope, more than a little sanity, and a helluva lot of my (and other peoples) money, trying to get this going. I've done all of this pretty much by myself. Cerainly I've had some (but not much) help from family, and I've got a network of good friends; but I've done this without the normal emotional frameworks that so many people cling to. No girlfriend, fiancee, wife, or any immediate emotional support.
I've used all my faculties trying to do this. But as plan after plan falls through, again, as I sit here and watch the last few dollars trickle out of my account, again, and watch the food disappear from the cupboard, again, I can't help but think, "What the HELL am I doing?" Why the hell am I putting myself through this. What can this possibly hold for me that makes all of this worthwhile?
This is what I'd like to say. I quit, I'm finished. This is the end, I can't fucking stand living like this anymore. I don't care about this stupid ass shit anymore. I just want to live without feeling like I'm some kind of fucking failure all the time.
That's what I'd like to say.........but I won't. I won't because I still know what I want and what I want is this: I want to play music, I want to practice it, to hear it, to experience it, all the time. Because I know music and I can play it like very few others, because I'm goddamned good at it. Because it's in my soul, it's all I ever want to do.
According to most people that I talk to this makes makes me lucky, even blessed. But these are the people that probably call survivors of major disasters "blessed" as well. It's a curse, because I know what I want...but I can't make it work. Because all I want to do for the rest of my life is make music at a level that satisfies me; and I do, all the time. But I can barely live. Every time I think I've made it, everytime I think I've got something, it falls apart.
I've done everything that I was supposed to do. But, as may be apparent to all readers out there what you're "supposed" to do is a crock of crap. Allways has been, all that shit that people talk about "perseverance" and "prayer" and "hard work" and all that bullshit is just that, bullshit. I can't begin to count the number of "hardworking", talented musicians just like me that never make it. That burn out, or spend thier lives working bullshit side jobs and eventually fall out due to injury or some other malady. Maybe that's my fate, and if so fine. Because I'll never quit.
I'm sick, and I'm tired, and I'm lonely, and I'm destitute, and I just don't know what to do.
Oh well, I guess I'll just get up tommorrow and try again.
God I'm fucking sick of this.
....and yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.