A goal deferred
Remember this?
1) Do the mile-long poem event.
2) Release "Best of" poetry CD.
3) Release "Watering Hole: Juke Joint Poems" CD.
4) Put on first solo art show.
5) Complete legit first draft of "Gospel of Smoke" novel.
6) Do a live breath show.
7) DJ in 3 new spaces.
8) Pick up 5 publishing credits.
9) Write a new screenplay.
10) Release a new music CD (artist undetermined. Suggestions?).
Now look at this:
1) Do the mile-long poem event.
2) Release "Best of" poetry CD.
3) Release "Watering Hole: Juke Joint Poems" CD.
4) Put on first solo art show.
5) Complete legit first draft of "Gospel of Smoke" novel.
6) Do a live breath show.
7) DJ in 3 new spaces.
8) Pick up 5 publishing credits.
9) Write a new screenplay.
10) Release a new music CD (artist undetermined. Suggestions?).
The red ones? That's how much of this list I accomplished this year to date. Mind you, this is after cutting the list in half from the previous year. It's October.
What's the problem? Did I get lazy? No. In fact, I've been busier this year than I have in a long time. The problem is that all of that work and perserverance and debating and shouting and emailing Magna Carta-length replies? None of that went into any of this...not my music, not my poetry, nothing I AM. NPS imploded and I put on the hat. WOWps needed extra attention, so I put on the hat. PSi needed some tending, so I put on the hat. I'm not Superman or anything; none of this should be inteprereted as me doing it alone, not even close. These jobs are so big we STILL didn't always have enough people lifting. Some of these jobs never end. Some of these jobs you do until you arent the person in the job anymore. That's the deal.
But TWO ITEMS OFFTHE LIST?! Really?!
I had a personally challenging year, fine. I had health issues this year, fine. My job is trying to kill me, fine. BUt TWO ITEMS?! Come ON. That's the checklist of someone who talks the game but can't score. That's the checklist of Ahab. That's the checklist of my niece and she's doing good to walk and talk at the same time. Essentially, this is pitiful. Sure, no one can work ALL of the time (and not pay for it), but this is...come ONnnn.
I pulled myself off of the road for the next few months so I could focus on what I AM for a while, but that was before I saw this list. This is just sad. This requires extensive reprioritization. I can't big-up your shit with all that effort, then come home to TWO ITEMS OFF MY LIST. How much difference didn't I make this year? How much money did I not generate? How much attention wasn't spent on what matters?
This is beneath the Evel Knieval of poetry. This is beneath Scott Motherfucking Woods. Sure, I did some things that aren't on this list, but really? Pft.
But.
But I'm not going to do that whole thing I sometimes do, where I give the Pacino speech and pull out the Lean on Me bat and start swinging myself into a corner, necessitating another Pacino speech, and the cycle starts over again.
Soemthing has to stop. Something has to go away for REAL. I'm tired of reading about people who are mad dedicated to what they love or believe in and that's what they DO, what they become, what we know them for, and coveting their commitment. I'm equally tired of the bogus part-timers who talk about how hard it is to shit out a couple of poems or deal with the artist life. Give me a break. Call me when you've broken some new ground in that graveyard you're calling a career. Living off of your art doesn't count if you live off of my fucking couch.
I digress.
It's too late to do much of this list, but I've got to give some serious thought to all of this. Somebody's go to go.
Autumn makes me wistful.
1) Do the mile-long poem event.
2) Release "Best of" poetry CD.
3) Release "Watering Hole: Juke Joint Poems" CD.
4) Put on first solo art show.
5) Complete legit first draft of "Gospel of Smoke" novel.
6) Do a live breath show.
7) DJ in 3 new spaces.
8) Pick up 5 publishing credits.
9) Write a new screenplay.
10) Release a new music CD (artist undetermined. Suggestions?).
Now look at this:
1) Do the mile-long poem event.
2) Release "Best of" poetry CD.
3) Release "Watering Hole: Juke Joint Poems" CD.
4) Put on first solo art show.
5) Complete legit first draft of "Gospel of Smoke" novel.
6) Do a live breath show.
7) DJ in 3 new spaces.
8) Pick up 5 publishing credits.
9) Write a new screenplay.
10) Release a new music CD (artist undetermined. Suggestions?).
The red ones? That's how much of this list I accomplished this year to date. Mind you, this is after cutting the list in half from the previous year. It's October.
What's the problem? Did I get lazy? No. In fact, I've been busier this year than I have in a long time. The problem is that all of that work and perserverance and debating and shouting and emailing Magna Carta-length replies? None of that went into any of this...not my music, not my poetry, nothing I AM. NPS imploded and I put on the hat. WOWps needed extra attention, so I put on the hat. PSi needed some tending, so I put on the hat. I'm not Superman or anything; none of this should be inteprereted as me doing it alone, not even close. These jobs are so big we STILL didn't always have enough people lifting. Some of these jobs never end. Some of these jobs you do until you arent the person in the job anymore. That's the deal.
But TWO ITEMS OFFTHE LIST?! Really?!
I had a personally challenging year, fine. I had health issues this year, fine. My job is trying to kill me, fine. BUt TWO ITEMS?! Come ON. That's the checklist of someone who talks the game but can't score. That's the checklist of Ahab. That's the checklist of my niece and she's doing good to walk and talk at the same time. Essentially, this is pitiful. Sure, no one can work ALL of the time (and not pay for it), but this is...come ONnnn.
I pulled myself off of the road for the next few months so I could focus on what I AM for a while, but that was before I saw this list. This is just sad. This requires extensive reprioritization. I can't big-up your shit with all that effort, then come home to TWO ITEMS OFF MY LIST. How much difference didn't I make this year? How much money did I not generate? How much attention wasn't spent on what matters?
This is beneath the Evel Knieval of poetry. This is beneath Scott Motherfucking Woods. Sure, I did some things that aren't on this list, but really? Pft.
But.
But I'm not going to do that whole thing I sometimes do, where I give the Pacino speech and pull out the Lean on Me bat and start swinging myself into a corner, necessitating another Pacino speech, and the cycle starts over again.
Soemthing has to stop. Something has to go away for REAL. I'm tired of reading about people who are mad dedicated to what they love or believe in and that's what they DO, what they become, what we know them for, and coveting their commitment. I'm equally tired of the bogus part-timers who talk about how hard it is to shit out a couple of poems or deal with the artist life. Give me a break. Call me when you've broken some new ground in that graveyard you're calling a career. Living off of your art doesn't count if you live off of my fucking couch.
I digress.
It's too late to do much of this list, but I've got to give some serious thought to all of this. Somebody's go to go.
Autumn makes me wistful.