My mind’s still buzzing, so let’s see what’s on it.
Tonight’s was a good show. It was only a good show. The opener picked out a
9-year-old from the crowd and said something like, “You can be anything you
want to be, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise” before getting the crowd to
collectively say, “Happy birthday.” She said, “This one goes out to those who
only follow their own rules. You’re perfect just as you are, don’t ever change
for anything.” Go figure, I just looked her up thinking she was young, but
she’s actually performing under an alias, because I recall enjoying Juliet
Simms. She’s a considerably better musician than she is thought leader.
I hear pretty often at shows how much,
“We’re all in this together.” Are we? You have very deliberately and
purposefully put all talented women on your tour, and none of you even
mentioned voting, fighting, or doing anything beyond singing the words to your
songs. What are we in together, precisely? The collective delusion that music
actually saves us or guitars kill fascists?
It’s getting a little exhausting, and I have many more shows left this year.
Clearly, we’ve chilled in our daring self-expression and freedom to speak to
how fucked things are. Either we’re collectively hopeless, or we consider it
pointless and are just trying to get a few headbangs in before the wandering
Proud Police come to actually bang our heads. I don’t respect people with
platforms more protective of their brand than the environment that allows them
to cultivate one, at least, for a little while longer.
I’ve felt kind of inspired. Making the few phone calls to doctor’s offices made
my overwhelming fatalism feel practical and accessible again. I’m discovering
how I want to massage my pitch. I’m filling in blanks on a spreadsheet. It’s a
nice little to-do while I’m waiting around for my only meeting of the day, and
if I get even a handful of yeses or decent conversations, I might start pocking
my days with a few more $20s.
A bunch of my new stuff arrived. Books, games, tools, and a big cot because I’m
sick of waking up with back pain. I feel poised this weekend to work more
outside provided the weather doesn’t take a turn. I got a vest that lets you
attach icepacks to it. I have, probably about $1000 more to spend before I have
everything to complete the wood shop and most of the fence. That would still
only put me working until November to get out of debt.
-------------------------------A couple days
later----------------------------------------------
Band of Horses is playing in front
of me. I've sat in an exploitively cost prohibitive seat that was not the one I
paid for, but is definitely one of a set that I've been idling in a shopping
cart, refreshing now and then, for the last two and a half hours... just in
case. I'm alone. It's my 29th concert or comedy show this year. Band of Horses
just ended on the one song of theirs I sorta knew and do like.
Is this fun? Have any/all these shows been
"worth it?"
I ask the questions not because my motivations
are unclear, but because of some portions of conversation I had with a friend
last night. She conveyed that going to so many shows back-to-back would be
overwhelming or exhausting and that she only really likes shows where she knows
all of the band's music. I feel where she's coming from. 2 years ago when I
bought expensive VIP tickets to Riot Fest it was because My Chemical Romance
had gotten back together and were headlining. I expected that to be "my
concert" or "my gift to myself" for the year.
Things changed. Everything locked down. People
you didn't think were gonna die, did. All of a sudden, if you have a chance to
capture and experience, "now" became more real. So, sales started up,
and I started buying and planning. The first few concerts this year it was
required-enough to have a mask ready. Industries tied to music that came close
to the brink started to roar back to life.
There's a few things at play for how and why I
do things. I like to familiarize myself with "everything." I like to
collect things, so even if real tickets are a thing of the past, printouts can
go in my little book. I've been pushing myself to be more open to things that I
would have reflexively ignored or dismissed like every band playing that I
didn't come to see. I like getting to know the areas the concerts take place
and having a decent plan for getting around. I like not sitting in my house all
day. I like having easy "interesting" clout for lazy conversations
with people who don't do anything. I bring books to read between sets and for
before the show starts.
Today, by chance, I have a headache as an area
worked on during my rolfing appointment is being disagreeable. I accidentally
drained my truck battery before the show idling in the parking lot trying not
to sweat to death. I live no less than an hour away from every show, and
today's is the second farthest venue. I stay mildly tense I'll have to vacate
my seat until about the middle of the headliner's slot. Who's paying $568 to
see half a show that isn't sold out?
I won't remember the headache until I read this
back. There are hundreds of cars that might jump me, if my little jumper
doesn't again, if it's needed at all as it was back and running before I left
to come inside. "Fun" doesn't really apply to the "life"
things that happen while you're trying. Living in a state of existence that has
to question the reliability of your shit isn't fun by default.
Hanging out with my friend was fun. She’s funny and we can talk pretty much
indefinitely. The funny David Cross video that The Black Keys played before
they came out was suggestive of what I gather to be their brand of fun. I have
fun with the idea of tearing down institutions that have failed. Almost every
show I’ve been to at The Comedy Attic has been fun. Hanging out with my dad is
fun. I’m fun.
To me, fun springs from the spontaneity of the interactions between conscious
beings. All of the concerts have been “good,” and a few “more fun” or “funny”
because of the personalities of the performers. Another friend of mine was at
Earth, Wind, and Fire and we got to dance together after I’d had a few beers. I
don’t normally drink when I go to shows. You combine day-drinking, dancing, and
one of the most energetic shows that brought everyone to the dance floor? Yeah,
quite fun.
I have a tendency to turn everything into a kind of grind. I can’t just play a
video game. I have to buy every iteration of that game and set myself up for
weeks of dedicated playing so I can really appreciate the differences
or story. I can’t just listen to music. I have to download everything from
every artist I’ve remotely come into contact with, keep them all on shuffled
rotation, and go out of my way to buy new equipment to house my entire library.
It’s not enough to vibe with and repeat my favorites. What if my next favorite
song is on tomorrow’s playlist? Even building things. I stop for long periods
of time when I suck the fun out of it, and the playpen nature of my aim, and it
turns into a “project” that takes too much planning or energy or sacrifice like
battling the elements when I’m not in the mood.
Is anything I’m ever doing that fun?
It wasn’t that long ago we were at a roller coaster park. Seeing new coasters is
fun. Drops are fun. The speed is fun. Going around a section and losing your
phone isn’t fun. The coaster locking its harness down too tight and pinching
your balls isn’t fun either. Getting knocked around violently on a wooden
coaster until you get a headache sucks. Riding them back-to-back until you’ve
memorized every turn and start to get sick slowly chips away at the fun
aspects. Is a roller coaster fun?
I think I’m just approaching the realization that it’s a poorly conceived
question that we habitually utilize in attempting to understand whether to do
something. We ask kids if they have fun, they pretty clearly say yes or no. We
don’t evolve our capacity for fun linguistically, so a night out when you’re tired
might get a trite, “This was fun!” under a picture, whether or not you recall
nursing a beer for hours, barely talking, and wishing you were in bed.
There’s fun, for open-minded types, in novelty, but as you get older, how much
really feels that new? Eventually, if you’re
paying attention, you’ll discover that even the process of learning something
new or seeing something for the first time gets familiar. When I go to learn a
new song, it’s fumbling in the dark, slowly recognizing the pattern or getting
my fingers in order, anticipating the next lines that I couldn’t get the first
few passes, then repeat repeat repeat until I’m barely thinking about what I’m
playing or singing at all. The “fun” has to evolve, because while I’m certainly
always learning, the motivation to start playing an instrument is fundamentally
different than the one to continue doing so. I know how to play, but do I want
to write songs? Do I want to perform? Do I want to practice and study in a
dedicated way until theory matches instinctive physical capacity? I do, but that
gets expensive in attention resources if nothing else.
During the concert, I got a call about the continuing-to-rage dumpster fire
that is DCS. More dedicated and good people have fled. They’re trying to fuck
with my friend’s years-long effort to stabilize the kid. It may be time to
attack. Now, we’re talking real fun. It illuminates the nature of that evolved
“fun” concept. It builds in work, consequences, and accountability. Is it more
or less fun than going to concerts? It’s simply a prospect that I might get
more or less out of depending on how I approach it and what I notice as it
unfolds. So goes everything on the roller-coaster.
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