(no subject)
I guess the last entry didn't quite have the effect it was supposed to, because I forgot to tell everyone about the delightfully dire financial situation it's going to pull me out of. Oh well.
So, I was listening to some old stuff. Art is not going to win anyone over, or accomplish anything, as far as I can tell. It's a nice little emotional diary. It was kind of neat to revisit my experience, but it made me a little disappointed with myself, because I never really got where I wanted to. It's now a lost cause, but I really might have gotten somewhere if I'd handled things properly. It's not regret, and not just because I make a point not to regret things, but the fact that I still don't know what I should have done in that situation, and I'm still in the dark on similar matters. If only I could record how that feels. These things are nice to have, for my own sake, and there may be some marketability to them...that is, the ones that covered any significant emotional ground...some I don't like because I feel too vulnerable when I hear them, and some I feel I was too reserved on, and avoided subject matter by substituting silliness. Others are meaningless...instrumental tracks with crazy titles...and some of those seem beyond redemption...because there wasn't much going on in the first place, other than, hey, let's make a song. Ooh, I need a title; it's asshole time. But maybe there's nothing wrong with that. Some people were really into that. I'm an entertainer. I don't know that I can be the next singer-songwriter who comes up with these tearjerking ballads. I want to, but I feel if it's sincere, it might come off as a little cheesy, or someone might find my emotions juvenile or primitive, and if it's not sincere, well, I'd have trouble doing it, and I'd be worry about the same things. "Oh, you know, I was singing in character." For some reason, as a culture, we don't get that. Just ask Mark Knopfler. Money for Nothing got him in some trouble, because of whatever was considered offensive language, which was supposed to be the observations of this idiot guy in an appliance store or something. I don't remember exactly. Anyway, I suppose this ties into my ongoing struggle to write honest lyrics, which might not be necessary if I weren't so darn good at creating wuss rock songs. If only I could just be awesome at instruments and shred my face off all day long, and let somebody else worry about all this shit. It's really tough to put personal stuff out in the open.
I guess I just don't like to feel like an idiot, and perhaps, at times, I'm too easily convinced that I should.
So, I was listening to some old stuff. Art is not going to win anyone over, or accomplish anything, as far as I can tell. It's a nice little emotional diary. It was kind of neat to revisit my experience, but it made me a little disappointed with myself, because I never really got where I wanted to. It's now a lost cause, but I really might have gotten somewhere if I'd handled things properly. It's not regret, and not just because I make a point not to regret things, but the fact that I still don't know what I should have done in that situation, and I'm still in the dark on similar matters. If only I could record how that feels. These things are nice to have, for my own sake, and there may be some marketability to them...that is, the ones that covered any significant emotional ground...some I don't like because I feel too vulnerable when I hear them, and some I feel I was too reserved on, and avoided subject matter by substituting silliness. Others are meaningless...instrumental tracks with crazy titles...and some of those seem beyond redemption...because there wasn't much going on in the first place, other than, hey, let's make a song. Ooh, I need a title; it's asshole time. But maybe there's nothing wrong with that. Some people were really into that. I'm an entertainer. I don't know that I can be the next singer-songwriter who comes up with these tearjerking ballads. I want to, but I feel if it's sincere, it might come off as a little cheesy, or someone might find my emotions juvenile or primitive, and if it's not sincere, well, I'd have trouble doing it, and I'd be worry about the same things. "Oh, you know, I was singing in character." For some reason, as a culture, we don't get that. Just ask Mark Knopfler. Money for Nothing got him in some trouble, because of whatever was considered offensive language, which was supposed to be the observations of this idiot guy in an appliance store or something. I don't remember exactly. Anyway, I suppose this ties into my ongoing struggle to write honest lyrics, which might not be necessary if I weren't so darn good at creating wuss rock songs. If only I could just be awesome at instruments and shred my face off all day long, and let somebody else worry about all this shit. It's really tough to put personal stuff out in the open.
I guess I just don't like to feel like an idiot, and perhaps, at times, I'm too easily convinced that I should.