A cool thing happened this week: "Messenger" was chosen for the 2016 CarpeDM Music Mix. Woo! The funny thing to me about "Messenger" is that it was kind of an afterthought to record it in the first place. We had enough time left in the studio that particular night to record a quick, raw, live track. I said, "Eh, how 'bout Messenger?" I'd been sick, my throat hurt, and my voice was shot. Yet that's the track that some people call their favorite. Go figure. The People like tired, sick, and pitchy. (Or maybe they just like real.)
Adding bass next weekend, which will round out a handful of songs (currently in square and triangle shape). Laundry list continues beyond that.
I'm not very good at planning, especially when it comes to using a calendar. Although, I have 3 (calendars). Two of them are paper. The third is electronic, and I only use it (barely and badly) because I'm required to at work. If I'm in charge of coordinating other people's calendars to accomplish a mission, someone will need to bring a fire extinguisher. (And it probably won't be me, because I'll forget.) For these reasons: I kinda wish someone else were coordinating the logistics of recording this record.
It would also be okay if someone else were coordinating the logistics of booking gigs--especially ones out of town. Turns out, this is not among my talents.
I can dress myself. I don't need any help with that (unless I'm expected to be fancier).
Age & Bullshit
I like to write music. I think I'm pretty good at it. I like to play music. I think I'm pretty good at that. The rest of it... not so much. But ironically, at this level (small batch, unknown independent), sometimes it feels like you are rewarded (externally) more by your ability to play the game than your ability to actually create good art. (Who determines what's good? I don't know.) I find this frustrating, because I don't want to play games. I just want to make and play good music. But I'd also like to play interesting gigs that more than 3 people show up for.
For a few reasons, I've been thinking a lot about my age recently -- moreso than I did before. I'll be 42 in May. I've never had a problem with my age. I can say with 100% certainty that I am better at the age of 41 than I was at any point in my 20s or 30s. I suspect that will be true at 42, 43, 50, 58, 67, and 71, should I be gifted with that kind of time. I'm getting better each year. I challenge myself. I learn new things. I'm in good shape. I laugh. I do stuff that I find interesting. And I see aging as a privilege that not everyone gets, no matter how hard they fight. When it comes to age (and a lot of things, really) I think we really need to stop whining about it and instead be grateful for every year (day) we get. None of it is guaranteed.
But recently, a little needle worked its way into my craw and I've been feeling, perhaps, a tiny smidge, almost, maybe, a faint shade of, likely just a hair, dammit, just a little bit... old.
I've never cared much for insincerity or bullshit, but I'm finding that as I age, I'm growing increasingly intolerant of it. And it's hard to get around--sometimes serving as a driving force in multiple arenas, professional and personal. (Lord help me--and single hetero men in the greater Des Moines area--if I ever enter the dating world again.)
When I don't feel like talking, I don't talk. When I'm done drinking, I stop drinking, regardless of what I'm offered. I am rarely done eating, however, so bring it on. In general, if you are not my family or someone very close to me, good luck in getting me to do anything at all that I don't feel like doing. (My family might say that it doesn't matter if you're my family.) My friends are my friends because I like them (and they like and/or tolerate me), not because I think they can do something for me. I rarely have much of an agenda, but if I do, I'll probably tell you what it is right after I say hello.
I appreciate this about myself, and I appreciate it about others even when it's a little off-putting. It makes for awkward moments, but I'd rather have a series of awkward real moments than cool scripted ones.
At any rate, why am I bringing this up? I don't know. It's in my head lately as I'm sailing some choppy waters, and it's now creeping into my music--age and bullshit. My newest song is called "The Run Around" and is all about it. My friend, Liz, caught some video of it this last week at the first solo 2-hour gig I've played since November: https://www.facebook.com/liz.george.948/videos/10153968525774099/
Don't call me bitter. I'm not yet worn through.
I've just run out of time for the guesswork.
Don't call me done, though I'm somewhere past the middle.
I've run out of time for the games.
I've run out of time for the run around.
Melodramatic finale complete!