Saturday, May 30, 2015

Back To Burnout And Disgust

I spent a month up in Lake Tahoe, being a working person.  I worked at a State Park there, I enjoyed it, I enjoyed most of the workers, well, all except for the one workplace bully who didn’t want to be responsible for what she did, who wasn’t going to stand her ground with her co-workers who went to bat for me, who chose to punish and bully the one person who couldn’t fight back.  I enjoyed the quiet, I even enjoyed living in the little shack that had no plumbing (bathrooms and other facilities were right across the parking lot).  I enjoyed the fact that I was earning a paycheck, and that it was only a matter of a short time before I would have my own life back.  It was a full time job, but even with that, I managed to break out my guitar or banjo and play some.  I was enjoying doing that more than I had in years.  I was in complete burnout and disgust mode before I moved to the Lake.

I’m now back in Reno, where all the angry people are, where all the noise is, where the grossly inept working people are.  I’m about ¾ of the way back to total burnout and disgust – and this is after being back here two weeks.  I could be a pretentious ass and claim that it doesn’t get to me, that I’m able to “let it go”, that I’m stronger than any this or that – and other such horseshit.  I could pretend that I’m ok.  Yes, I get it that all the angries out there must live with their own self inflicted stuff, yes, of course I get that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I continue to be on the receiving end of their hostility, their vindictiveness, their envy, their slander, and their simmering anger.  In what world should I be, by law, demanded to take crap from lowlifes in the street, or lowlifes in the workplace, lowlifes in any and all public places?  The result of all of this is that the thing I loved most, the thing I knew best, the thing I chose to do for a living, the thing I knew was a good thing to offer to the universe, is now all but gone.  After getting tossed out of what appeared to be a vacant parking lot yesterday, and after seeing the double padlocked gate and the “No trespassing or else” sign where I was going a couple times a week to play music, after having lost the job that would have paid for the replacing of things that have been lost, stolen, sold, or given away over the past few years – things that I need so that I can do decent recordings, and make decent videos, here I am.  At this particular moment, I couldn’t bring myself to take any of my guitars or my banjo out of the case, much less play them.  I’m not arrogant enough to claim that only I have control over what I do.  This external crap has been taking its toll on my all my life.

As I’ve said many times, I really don’t know where to go from here.  I’ve spend the past couple of years trying to contact record labels, artist management companies, booking agents, and other music business related people, and I continue to be blatantly ignored.  I’m pretty sure my music and my abilities are decent.  I play ten instruments, and yes, I can actually play them.  My delivery is something that people have enjoyed – ever since I first started in this business way back in the day.  I hit the notes when I sing, and my voice is listenable.  I’m on the stage to give, not to take – always – in other words, I’m not up there for people to tell my how wonderful I am, I’m up there to give the only thing I know.  Add to all of that, it’s been decades of people doing their damedest to stifle me in every way, and if you think that doesn’t get fucking old, think again.  So, now I’m burned out again, not sure when I’ll feel like playing again.

This is where I am today.  People have been telling me to “Be patient” all my life, so how much longer do I wait before I stumble across anything resembling fair or just, how long before I be compensated for my hard work and abilities – as opposed to either being stifled, or for some parasite to profit from what I do?  As always, I have no answers.

All for now.

No comments:

Post a Comment