Can I be a realist and still have the vivid imagination I so cherish? If that imagination attacks me, subversively eating the foundation out from under me, is it honorable to turn from it and use a different lens?
I played a show (really, an open mic) tonight at a local cafe called Waltz, and hmm.. wasn’t my worst performance there, but if I were to map my satisfaction, graft it onto my feelings both during and after the set, I would clearly stamp it as a one.
Where’s my conviction? Every time I feel this way after a set, I make pacts with myself to brush up on my guitar-playing chops, my music theory knowledge, and work on my songs as if they were my own child’s mind. But the next day, I wake up at 2pm and find just enough time to wash a few dishes before heading off to work, whereupon after I get out I come home and surf the internet in some random manner. This is saying one thing and meaning another. Where’s my meaning?
This post contains no news, no updates, no worthwhile advance in my music at all. It will just simply serve as a reminder to myself.
