Tour Notes XIII: End This

“Where are all the people?” Not the question you want to hear after driving three hours to play a gig somewhere. This is going to be another long night… “This place was packed last night.” Two hundred miles… rattled… sleepless… to perform at this place. I know I am not well known and had never been to this town. I am trying to build an audience but there’s not much you can build out of the two town drunks and the bartender. Someone said I was the hardest working musician he knew… probably the most masochistic too. One man bands are enough trouble but mine is especially burdensome with four different guitars, a banjo, accordion, trash drum kit and all the miscellaneous pieces that put it all together. When discussing my rates I will usually say I will play for free but I charge at least a hundred dollars to carry all my shit in and out of the venue. Like most people who haven’t found success, my instinct is always to work harder… practice more… add more to my act to make it more unique and entertaining. All that work is surely evident to the people who witness my act. The problem is no one does. Where are all the people? It’s Friday night at one of the few waterholes in town and just about the only one with any live music but it is still empty. The bar I played last night was slow too. Unusually so, they said… as if I am some sort of curse… I feel cursed. I’ve been doing this for years. Getting better. Getting great even… and I am still playing these same gigs… for no one. Every gig is my tenth birthday party all over again. The one nobody showed up for. The one that made me cry to find I had no one to share my toys with. End this. End this. That becomes a mantra in my head. End this. I think I have learned my lessons from failure well enough. I know what it is like to be broke… unwanted… I know what it is like to have no one come to my gigs. Those experiences have played over and over again like a fucking broken record. I’ve heard that song already. I wrote that goddamn song already. Over the years of my repeated failure I have grown… gotten better than I ever imagined becoming… I even impress my relentlessly self-critical self at times… I got it all going now. The material. The chops. The act. I am ready for something different now but where the fuck is everyone? End this.

Tour Notes XI: American Dreams Lost and Found

We were on our way back from the parts store. For whatever reason, my five speed truck has a four speed’s universal joint. Maybe that is why it was about to give out after a measly 180 thousand miles. “Uncle Dave” talks nonstop about cars he is putting together and cars he plans on getting. I speak just enough Gearhead to fake an understanding. He tells me in his thick Alabama manner about his plan to dig up some gold in Eastern Oregon. He has got it all figured out. If his calculations are right he will soon be able to take care of all his kin and all those who are close to him. None of them will have to trouble over money anymore. I am not much help as he crawls back under my truck. I just find some shade and drink some of the PBR’s I bought for him. He doesn’t have a garage. My car is up on a neighbor’s ramp out on a side street in Southeast Portland. I can’t afford to take it into a shop. I have to get everything through Adventure. A tiny old lady comes by to collect our empty cans. They are worth a nickel a piece here in Oregon. She is distraught. Members of her family have been dropping faster than major characters in a Game of Thrones episode. Her mother. Her sister. Her sister’s son. Gone. Gone. Gone. Of her nephew she says in her thick Eastern European accent “He have no money. He have no job. He have no food. He kill self.” She puts her hand over head to grab an invisible rope. We get the picture. I know that jazz. Being unemployed and feeling worthless… unable to take care of yourself… that hopelessness knowing there is no help for you. It sounds like a typical American Tragedy but given her accent I had to ask her where this happened. Perhaps this disease is spreading throughout the world now. “In Atlanta” she answers. I had just read that the Atlanta Metro has seen their poverty rate rise 160% during the last decade. Stocks are up, right? “No money. No job. No food…” … I sit at a table just off Mississippi in NoPo having coffee with my friend Jen. Years ago, we made a ritual of having lunch together when we both had “real” jobs downtown. Our lunches together were pretty much the highlight of our day. I kept that job for almost two years. It was okay work. My boss treated us like individuals. He played to our strengths. Like everyone else there, I was good at some things and not so good at others. He tried to keep me busy doing what I was good at. Then the economy dropped out. Rome was burning, banks were imploding and yet somehow the heads upstairs decided it was our fault that no business was coming in. The replaced my boss with someone they brought in from California. He was full of Big Talk. There would be no more treating us like individuals… no more playing to our strengths. We were just machines now. When I was assigned something I was not only bad at but aggravated my tendonitis I decided I was not a machine and walked out. They told me to think about it over the weekend. By all their metrics, I was one of their most productive employees. I had been there long enough to see all the inefficiencies. The older workers were all set in their ways and resisted innovation. I decided I would express my observations on how things were run in an email. I thought I was doing them a favor but when I came in to talk about my decision I was treated as if I had called in a bomb threat. Even after all these years I guess I never learned. This is a culture of Big Talk. We are all supposed to get into line as chest puffing paper tigers. Keep your head down. Don’t ever question what you are doing, how you are doing it or what it all leads to. Honesty is a bomb in that room. Call security! Just like that I went from being offered a management position to being a “rotten apple”. Don’t hire John Whipple. He is a troublemaker. No one has hired me since. On my way home that day I threw my shoes in the garbage. This is done. … Jen wasn’t too far behind. She had been making and giving away art for years but now she was having a go at an artist’s life. It hasn’t been easy. Every month is a scramble to get just enough to keep going… keep that roof over her head. It has been an adventure. A leap of faith. That afternoon we both agreed it had been hard but we are both happier now. Unlike the doomed soul of that old lady’s nephew in Atlanta the job market no longer tells us what we are worth. As scary and insecure as our lives have become there is value in every step of this journey… because this journey is ours. My American Dream was never about things. You can keep your big houses, Xboxes and televisions. I don’t give a shit about any of it. I dream of a life worth living. Shit. When someone asks what my goals are I reply it is to play in places where people come to see me. I want to sell tickets. I want to be able to put on my rider “No fucking televisions” and “Don’t hassle me about my bare feet”. Yeah… a bigger RV would be nice but mostly I just want to be honest. Dream on Uncle Dave: May that gold be there waiting for you. Dream on Jen Berry: May you continue to find salvation through creation. Dream on J.P.Whipple: May you find your audience. Dream on all my great friends who chase the life that is meant for them… who follow their path… their bliss. I don’t meet people with those old corporate dreams anymore… the ones who dream of promotions and mortgages. They are the ones who stay home. The road is for the living.

Tour Notes XII : The Godforsaken House of Love

In Portland I found myself in the home of a good friend. She happens to live in a nice old Victorian home just off Mississippi in NoPo and has a furnished bedroom open up the stairs. Stylin’. I have known her for many years through more than a few ups and face down in the dirts. Perhaps these are the “ups”… at least for her. She has a man living with her now and that is a new thing. She is an intelligent and strong woman… a force of nature all to herself. Not too many guys can hang with that. Apparently, Troy is doing just that. When they left town for an event up in the Cascades last weekend, I stayed behind to hang out with the cat, Inu. The home is a Turn of the Century Victorian with high ceilings and wood floors. It is the sort of space that just loves an acoustic musician. I can sit on the couch in the living room with a guitar and the sound opens up all the way into the kitchen and up the stairs before returning back to my ears. Beautiful. Having the whole place to myself I felt it would be a good time to write some songs. Usually when I am in the mood to write I just start playing my instruments and let them sing back to me. If something sounds good I will see if I can build something with it. That weekend, everything that came back was beautiful… too beautiful. The songs my instruments wanted to sing were all soft and tender. Too sweet for my tastes. I feel that a good song should have both dark and light. A full spectrum. If you let the song get too soft you wind up with Air Supply or Paul McCartney without John Lennon to cut down on all that awful sickening sweetness. Still, every time I tried to put an edge on a groove I was working on it was as if I was playing music into a cloud. Sweet… soft… tender…. Blech. The next morning I realized what was happening. This house was full of love. I could feel it. The walls were full of it. The wood of my guitars were soaking in it. I was drenched in it. I don’t know if I believe in things like ghosts or spirits as actual things… like the restless soul of a long dead person… but reverberation… that is a real thing. When something emotional happens in a space the walls just soak it up. Some things can reverberate for generations… for centuries. I spend my life as something of a professional guest. I am always staying in different homes usually for just a day or two. I am always aware of the energy… the reverberation. Most of the time it is warm and welcoming. On rare occasions, it can be edgy and I can’t wait to leave. In this home it was love… pure and simple. It was no surprise at all when Tiffany returned and announced that she was engaged. So I wasted a perfectly good weekend with my guitars puking Air Supply all over this godforsaken House of Love. I am okay with that.

It Takes a Busload of Faith to Get By

What’s Your Story? (It Takes a Busload of Faith to Get By) Ross Douthat has been on a book tour with his book Bad Religion: How We Became a Nation of Heretics. He argues that even though people have been abandoning traditional churches in droves we are just as “religious” as ever. We have just moved away from the old churches to what he calls “heresies” whether it is one of those “Churches of Prosperity” where the Good Lord has some cash waiting for you or some version of a New Age Spirituality where we can learn to harness the great energies of Cosmic Love. Truth is it is pretty likely people will always be believers in something. We need a story to believe in. We are storytelling creatures. We need a story because we think in language. Thinking in language is a double edged sword. There is little doubt that if we suddenly lost our language skills depression would all but disappear. If someone out there has not seen Jill Bolte Taylor’s Ted Talk about her journey, thanks to a stroke, into the blissful realm of experience without language I cannot think of a more worthy twenty minute video on the web (http://www.ted.com/talks/jill_bolte_taylor_s_powerful_stroke_of_insight.html). Blissful as it might be, if we didn’t have language skills we would still be naked and living brief and savage lives. That is a bit of a trade off. I am not sure which life I would prefer but I guess I am stuck with my storytelling brain for now. So what’s your story? Just the facts, mam’. That’s one approach. We can try to see the world for what it is as best we can. We certainly need to do this to some extent. If you don’t you are going to end up on the roof with a cape believing you are a flying super hero. That is unlikely to go well for you. Seeing the world for what it is can be troubling too. To quote from the scene at Elvis’ grave in the movie Spinal Tap there is such a thing as “too much perspective”. Taken as “objectively” as possible the world can be seen as a pretty terrible and, at best, indifferent place. Even those “real life” Hollywood Ending stories are only triumphant if you stop following them when they reach that “happily ever after” moment. Keep reading and things often don’t go so well. “Yes Johnny was a big star at last but then he got older, beauty faded and fashions changed. Now the money is gone and he is doing Reality TV’s Has Been Circuit.” Many a great mind has been lost trying to come up with a way of dealing with the overwhelming tragedy of our brief lives in an indifferent universe. This is not a great story to tell yourself in the morning if you want to get out of bed. According to your story, you have already lost. Lying for the Win! It has been said many times that the trouble with the world is that the stupid people are certain and intelligent people are full of doubts. The fact that you can find very similar quotes on this very topic from Yeats, H.L. Menken and Bertrand Russell suggests this is hardly a new phenomenon in the world and is unlikely to change anytime soon. The rub is that even though the world really is terribly complex and usually way beyond our comprehension those that “delude” themselves into thinking otherwise usually win. This, of course, has had disastrous results in politics as practical solutions that try to address the very real complexities of an issue are, more times than not, swept aside in favor of the simple program built out of idiotic certitude. There can be little doubt why the black and white worldview of Fox News annihilates MSNBC’s more nuanced “liberal” view in the ratings. This isn’t just a numbers game that backs that common conceit of the intellectual that there are simply a lot more “stupid” people. On a more personal level, people guided by certainty and a good dose of self deception tend to triumph over realists and doubters. Psychologist Joanna Starek did a study of competitive swimmers that showed that swimmers that lied to themselves swam faster than those who did not. There is a great episode of WNYC’s Radiolab that highlights that story as well as many other fascinating aspects of lying and how lying can make people happier and more successful (http://www.radiolab.org/2008/mar/10/lying-to-ourselves/). So perhaps the story we should tell ourselves shouldn’t necessarily be “true”. There have been plenty of studies to suggest that people who involve a personal god or spirituality in their story tend to do better in life as well. Many great battles were won because the soldiers on one side had a compelling story that allowed them to cast aside their doubts and fears and throw themselves completely into the task at hand. Belief in a higher purpose is an essential ingredient of self sacrifice. Perhaps having a god or some sort of “spirituality” on your side can not only give you some direction but also confidence to move forward in an often frightening and dreadful world. I see nothing wrong with that in itself. The problems arise when people fashion tyrannical gods imbued with our basest and most petty qualities. There are two religious or spiritual paths. The High Road and the Low Road. On the Low Road, the gods are there to serve you. Because of your devotion to them they will champion your causes. They will bring money and love into your life. If you remain faithful enough they will even deliver you from death. Sadly, this is the road “more traveled”. It is a veritable superhighway compared to the High Road. On the High Road, you know you are sacrificed. Still, on the High Road instead of retreating to the empty promises of the Low Road you accept the sacrifice even if puts nails through your wrists (or, in our slightly more civilized age, plastic handcuffs). Of course, not everyone is meant to be a political or religious martyr. The High Road is all about following the journey of the heart. You know this path already. It is the deepest and truest story of all the stories you tell yourself. It is much deeper than our selfishness. It is a story that is open to the world… that involves the world and seeks to elevate it even if only in a small way. You might say, “Wait a minute! Where’s the reward? By starting out admitting that you are sacrificed and then giving yourself up, are you not just telling yourself that dreadful ‘realist’ story?” That is the beauty of it. It is a “true” story. Where is the reward? It is in the life that is really lived. When you admit you are lost you can throw yourself into your life completely. You have nothing to lose by living as full as you can. You are free to “follow your bliss” as Joseph Campbell would often say. By completely immersing yourself in your life you can experience the fullness of it: the ecstasy, bliss and terror. You are no longer down here on earth contemplating the sacred. You are sacred and every moment of your life is sacred (though, no doubt, some moments will be more sacred than others…). It’s a beautiful story but remember life is a pretty epic and complicated novel. There is plenty of room for subplots. So, go ahead, write the rest your own way. Give yourself plenty of room for happy endings. Write in gods and goddesses too if you like. Just make them Higher Gods and Goddesses that embody beauty, justice and love. Leave some room for the rest of us and our stories as well. That is all I ask. Maybe we will even write a chapter or two together. And remember: “It takes a busload of faith to get by”.

I'm With Stupid.... The Intellectual Gap

We all know it exists. It has existed for decades and today it is probably more pervasive than the traditional divide between conservatives and liberals or as some would like us to frame it: between Democrats and Republicans. I am speaking of the intellectual divide.

I got into one of my many internet arguments today (I get into these daily. I admit I enjoy it.). This time it was originally about Kirk Cameron and his stating some crap about homosexuality being “wrong”. On the thread I posted that the dude is just “STUPID” and no one should pay attention to him in the first place. Someone who apparently shares some of his Bible-based worldview was offended. Eventually, she pegged me as one of those “intellectual snobs” that is always lecturing and looking down on her.

Admittedly, there was nothing I could say. After all, I opened with that S-bomb. I confess that Kirk Cameron is the sort of person that makes me physically ill. I find few things more threatening to our future as a race than the willful use of religion to propel ignorance. It is my opinion that if your faith in God depends on ignoring the discovered facts of our universe then your faith is weak and your God is small.

Sadly, this small God is a powerful political force and the ignorance it carries threatens our ability to evolve and prosper as a nation. This small God is thrown in the face of gays. It is thrown in the face of women. Even worse, there are the attempts to use this small God to corrupt our youth and weaken our education.

Now a caveat: I am not a Bill Maher or Christopher Hitchens. I don’t think everyone that believes in a God is an idiot. I have too many intelligent Christian friends. I prefer to think that God and Science are not at war. I like to think each new discovery makes God greater. Evolution is miraculous. If a God came up with that, He truly is amazing. Science, as a whole, has made the Universe greater. Looking in and out, we have discovered that the Universe is far larger than we could have possibly imagined. I would think that this would make God greater. Instead, so many people insist on limiting God to the tiny and dark world we inhabited when the Bible was written thousands of years ago.

This is only one line of the intellectual v. anti-intellectual divide. We are “debating” climate change. There is a battle over history. Increasingly, ideas are not debated based on objective facts. Instead of arguing based on how things are people are arguing based on how they think things should be. People are choosing their reality and then demanding you accept it as a starting point for debate. It’s no wonder these arguments go nowhere. How can people come to any agreement when they live in two completely different realities?

This brings about the tricky part. How can this divide be bridged? I have heard from Obama critics that he always sounds like he is “lecturing”. Indeed, he is a practiced lecturer. Sadly, I think Obama is actually going through some pains to explain why he believes certain things. He is making a reasoned argument. In other words, he is being an intellectual snob. Perhaps that is one of his faults. Bush would never make much of a reasoned argument for anything he did. He would usually just say what he believes and leave it at that. Sometimes he would throw in a hyperbole: “The mushroom cloud” that Iraq was threatening us with for example.

This is where I get into trouble too. How can you make a reasoned argument without sounding like a prick? And what is it about our education system that leaves so many with such a disdain for learning? Are people ever resentful of those “honor students” who would go on to college and become successful? Has the old paradigm of high school bullying in which the jock beats up the nerd been replaced by the nerds taunting the jocks for being stupid? Has our schools’ insistence of putting students on “tracks” early in childhood, labeling some kids “gifted” and others “average” led to adults having nothing but disdain for both learning and the educated?

If you can’t reason with people then how can you reach people? Is it just a sad fact that people will cling to their beliefs in spite of any and all evidence to the contrary? No doubt this is true for a lot of people. This is not a left v. right or intellectual v. anti-intellectual condition either. People on all sides become rigid in their positions. The easiest way to tell them from the rest is by noticing when the argument breaks down into personal insults. “You’re too… sold out, stupid, ignorant, etc to understand” and the like is a sure sign that an impenetrable wall has been put up. No reason could possibly get through.

So what makes Americans so “anti-intellectual”? My guess is that people don’t like to be told what to think. That is totally understandable. I don’t like being told what to think either. On the other side, the “intellectuals” tend to approach these clashes with the point of view that the people they are arguing with don’t think. It is insulting but maybe understandable too. After all, the evidence for something like evolution is overwhelming and it is hard to respect an argument against it. Still, if you give a person a chance to explain his position you might find it more nuanced and reasoned than you expected. Maybe not but opening with the “S-bomb” is a sure sign that this is going nowhere.

Solutions? I see only one. People need to be taught how to think. The education system of regurgitation has given us a nation of idiots. Furthermore, it has led us to believe in a false division between smart and dumb people. I don’t think the IQ divide is as great as we pretend it is. It is the system that makes people “intellectuals” and “anti-intellectuals”. If people were taught to open and exercise their minds more we could start having real conversations again. People would be able to articulate their positions and wouldn’t have to insult their opponents. These days it is pointless to be taught to memorize shit anyway. I have a Wikipedia app on my phone. What do you want to know? Information is not the problem. How to deal with it is.

Announcing my Candidacy for U.S. President!

J.P. WHIPPLE FOR PRESIDENT

“Because I could really use a white house.”

I know. Most candidates lie and say that they want to “serve their country”. We all know it’s bullshit so I am not going to lie to you. I need some money and a place to stay and I am willing to be your President to get those things!

WHY AM I RUNNING?

The President of the United States is guaranteed government housing while he serves in office. Of course, there are other ways out of a homeless situation such as getting a job but I figure it is probably easier to gather 70,000,000 votes than it is to get a response from a resume sent out into the abyss. Of course, becoming President also comes with a job of actually being President and I would be more than happy to do that in my spare time. I have been second guessing decisions made by Presidents since I was a small child and I have no doubt that there is no one in the country more capable of running this country than myself. I have great ideas! Just read below!

THE ECONOMY –

Clearly, banks have too much fucking money. To help put money back into the hands of people that will spend it we need to bring back that old fashioned American spirit of banditry. It’s high time we welcome back the bank robbers. Bank robbers are well known for spending their money fast and stimulating the local economy. Restaurants, strip clubs, motels, and dubious used car dealers will see an immediate boon. I want to encourage these hard working Americans any way I can. I will instruct the FBI to stop pursuing bandits. I will start offering courses to young people caught up in our overcrowded prison system to prepare them for an exciting career in bank robbery. Let’s face it America, banks have been robbing us for centuries. It’s time to get off our lazy asses and rob THEM.

SOCIAL ISSUES –

I am not going to ban abortions or try to stop gay people from getting married. These are God’s rules. Not ours. You know, quite frankly, I’m tired of the government having to do God’s work. We can’t afford it anymore! God has been given a free ride long enough! It’s time for Him to get off His lazy Ass and enforce His laws Himself. He has an army of angels, lightning bolts, burning bushes and INFINITE POWER!

Under my administration there will be no more government handouts to “deadbeat deities”. Your free ride is OVER God. Time to pony up just like the rest of us.

THE WARS –

It’s time to bring our troops home. I believe, as a favor to mankind, we should give the terrorists LSD. I know. This is a controversial tactic but LSD has been known to turn people into hippies. Even before The Beatles, the CIA was exploring tactical uses for LSD. Frank Olson, a CIA biological warfare expert, was in the early stages of becoming a hippie after being covertly dosed by fellow agents (Questioning authority… Ready to make a life change and do something more ethical…) before the CIA defenestrated him. And just think John Lennon of The Beatles went from writing violent lyrics like “Run for life if you can little girl” to shit like “All you need is love” after taking acid.

Sure, hippies are a drain on society wandering around smelling bad and not buying anything but it much easier to fight them. Let the fucking Taliban come at us and try to put flowers in our M-16 barrels.

“War is over if you want it.” John Lennon (post LSD)

CAMPAIGN FINANCING –

No more corporate underwriting, PACs, or annoying fucking emails sent to you every day with hyperbolic statements about how everything you know and love is in peril unless you waste your money championing some shithead who won’t do a damn thing on your behalf anyway.

Fuck that.

Under my plan, the government will pay for all political campaigns. Don’t worry about this raising the deficit. It won’t. I am just going to make elections fair again. Each candidate will be given a black marker and some cardboard.

Best pick a good off-ramp for your stump speech.

Good Luck!

DEBT –

Yeah… I have heard about the debt. Even while living in my truck. Debt blah blah blah… So what? Why don’t we just do what half the people and many of the corporations in this country have already done? Declare Bankruptcy. After seven years we can start borrowing irresponsibly again. We can sell off Texas too. I heard they wanted to leave anyway. Good riddance.

Another sensible strategy for balancing the budget is to invade the Cayman Islands. I know it means another war but we can conquer the Caymans on the cheap. Fifty soldiers and five hundred bartenders offering free Daiquiris would do the job. Once conquered all those US corporations headquartered there will have to start paying taxes on the ridiculous profits. This will generate billions in revenue! Problem SOLVED.

MORE IDEAS COMING!

This is just a few ideas on J.P. Whipple will save America! These are just my plans for the first hundred days!( Although I do intend to take the rest of my term off. I hear Camp David is more chill than the White House. I will be throwing one hell of a party. Stop by! The drinks are on YOU!)

You can support my campaign by giving me money, buying my CDs or books, offering me a place to stay for a couple of days, or buying me a drink. Together we can put me in a nice home and save America!

http://jpwhipple.com

Keep Doing What You're Doing...

“Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Yeah… I hear that again and again. Terrible advice but I follow it anyway… as quixotic as it is. For what it’s worth, after two years on the road I have become one hell of a musician… in a time when no one buys music anymore… in a time when few people go to clubs to hear music… whether they can’t afford it because of the economy… or whether it is because they don’t want to risk the police gauntlet at a time when being near someone who drinks is enough to get you a DUI… or whether they would rather watch something on their Netflix or one of their ten fucking billion channels… or whether they would rather hang out “liking” shit on facebook…

Keep doing what you’re doing.

At the time when I started to seriously pursue music… the early nineties… it seemed like one of the few ways to express yourself that had some potential for success. Being someone whose artistic needs cannot be suppressed or ignored without serious fucking mental and emotional consequences, I had to find some way to get this shit out. I tried painting, drama and photography but all that seemed so… well… antique.

But music seemed fresh and very much alive in the early nineties. People look back on Nirvana now and think… well… “Kobain was such a genius” Bullshit. Nirvana was a pretty average garage band with unapproachable lyrics. They would have been completely ignored if not for their very fortunate timing. Independent labels were flourishing. A large college aged population were craving something more interesting than the bullshit that had dominated the 80’s rock scene. I mean… seriously… fuck Motley Crue. Yeah… go ahead and tell me how great you think they were. I assure you that they sucked in every way. They had a decent drummer. Like I give a fuck.

“Girls girls girls”

I have spelled out better lyrics with my vomit after consuming a fifth of Jack.

So suddenly there was “alternative” rock. The big labels couldn’t completely dominate the market anymore. There was room and an audience for someone with some fucking vision. “Smells like Teen Spirit” rocked the world. There was room in this business for someone like me.

That was a long time ago. My ambition back then was to make great albums and sell enough of them to get by. Then came Napster, torrents and cheap recording equipment. On the one hand every fucking wannabe could make an album and on the other no one was buying records at all. Sure there is still great music out there and perhaps even more of it than ever but no one buys it anymore. But by this time, I had sold my soul. I had invested so much into learning to play instruments, sing, and entertain that there really is no turning back. The economy has tanked. Permanently (I hate to break it to you). Obama can’t put Uncle Humpty Dumpty Sam back together. The idiots on the other side can only make things much much worse. There really isn’t much point in sending out resumes back to the “real” world. The corporate world HR person will Google my ass and instead of seeing someone with serious skills… someone who can build a website… write clever songs and stories… design packages… play instruments… engineer and produce quality music… they will see a degenerate… a rebel… loose canon… a barefoot weirdo…

Forget it.

Keep doing what you’re doing.

Like I have a choice here.

The sad thing is this time… as horrible as it is… is my time. I know this not by how awesome I think I am but by my CD sales per audience member… by how much money gets thrown at me… how many people come up to tell me how awesome I am… by how many people tell me…

Keep doing what you’re doing…

But it’s rough… hitting half empty clubs on a weekend night. Some nights are better but I still haven’t figured out how to get that “give-a-shit” quotient up. I beg and beg my few fans to help me out. Share videos and shit… but it’s hard. We are so distracted. So I hit the road. I barely have change for gas to the next town. I am totally dependent on an old Toyota truck. It is my home now. The bad news is that it is old. The good news is that it is a Toyota. Thank god. I would be done by now if I drove a Ford.

I do love what I do. It took me awhile to accept the whole one man band thing but now I am enjoying it. I like always being able to have my lyrics heard over the racket. I love that I am able to get people to dance. It’s a good job for me. I am kept insane by going insane in a controlled environment (the stage). The hours are pretty good. I get to work barefoot. It suits my stubborn duct taped together personality.

But it’s a bad time. Clubs are struggling. Musicians are struggling. I am not sure what the solution is. Some say selling out. Indeed, one commercial would be a year’s income for me. Others think maybe crowd-funding is the future. You want me to “keep doing what I am doing”? Help me out.

Today, I am stuck in a Catch-22. Most of me really wants to live inside and stop this fucking merry-go-round… at least for a month or two… but I would need some income to do that. A job. That’s a dodgy thing. Even in good times, jobs have been hard to come by for me. The rub is that if I end my tour and try to settle and can’t find work, I am really screwed. Most clubs are booked three to six months in advance. That means I would be stuck without income for three months. Plenty of time to turn my truck into a shopping cart. Plenty of time to get kicked into the gutter without any way out.

Keep doing what you’re doing.

I hope the truck has a few more miles in her but I know she won’t run like this forever.

And neither will I.