Livin' the dream, dreamin' the life
Our boss at work, when asked how he's doing, has a stock reply. "Livin' the dream!"
Nice work if you can get it. Few of us(even him, probably) can actually say we're living our dreams. Well if we're not already there, at least we can imagine our lives just as we'd like them to be, doing and living all the things that make us happiest. Actually I think it's a healthy exercise, however chimerical, however ridiculously improbable in reality, to put yourself in those shoes. Imagine you're really living your dream. At least you come out of it refreshed, feeling like maybe you could bridge that gap just a little bit--the gap between what is and what one would prefer it to be.
My ideal scene could be just about anywhere, so long as it's not too hot or too cold. It has to do more with the community and its acceptance of me as a musician, that sort of climate rather than relative distance from the Equator. For the sake of argument, let's just say my hometown, since this way I wouldn't have to move.
In my dream existence, I make enough money from gigs and lessons and CD sales so as not to have to work a dayjob. Actually there's enough money--I guess from the CD sales-- so that if I want to I can take a break from the gigs and lessons and not feel any kind of pinch. But I love to play and enjoy teaching, so I'm usually in there pitching.
Every day there are at least a few messages on the machine from clubowners wanting me to play in their establishments. Of course all the local spots are included(despite the fact that I'm from here!)but also venues from other cities and even other states. And the out-of-town places always offer lodging and travel expenses, sometimes even backup musicians.
The gigs themselves are always packed with people, but they're always quiet once the music begins. Of course the people love what we're doing, and every evening's performance ends with at least one encore tune. There are 'biz' people there who want to talk business with me on my breaks- but I've got a manager for that stuff, who handles it and gets back with me later. And there is always at least one beautiful girl who wants to meet me.
Flattering(and tempting) as it may be having all this attention from beautiful women, I have to be faithful to my girlfriend. She usually comes with me to the gigs anyway- and is a very pretty thing herself: very short(5'0" or even an inch or so shorter)with long straight hair and very large breasts. Being a musician herself(flute/saxophone or piano)she is sometimes in the group with me, but is usually there anyway and I have her sit in if possible. She always comes with me to my New Year's Eve gigs and is there to give me a big smooch at the stroke of midnight- and a big something else when we get home..
My CDs, once released, always get reviewed in the local newspaper as well as the local indie weekly without my even asking. In fact, they read the News page on my website and request advance copies of them once they find out about it. And there is a CD Release Party every time out, usually in one of the ballrooms of one of the local hotels, with a capacity crowd. Hundreds of CDs get sold that night.
Okay, then I wake up from the dream. I'm in Springfield fucking Illinois, the same town I made into a Utopia. I've overslept and have 5 minutes to get to my dayjob. No messages from clubowners, local or non-local. I have to call them and bug them, and usually get the runaround when I do get them on the phone. On the rare occasions when I get a gig from them, it's sparsely attended and quite often they sit in front of us and talk the whole time. And there are never any women who want to meet me, beautiful or not.
My CDs don't get reviewed by either local rag, even after dropping them off to the proper parties.. I did get a feature article in the newspaper some years back, but only because I called and bitched about the weekly paper ignoring my new CD.( The guy who used to write music reviews had it since March of that year and come New Year's Eve hadn't even touched it, just stuffed it in a drawer someplace and forgot about it, so I got miffed, to say the least- and this still pisses me off just a little.) Otherwise they just go unnoticed, just like me.
Well okay, there's the dream and there's the ugly reality. And then there's the actual situation, which is still far short of the dream but maybe not quite as desolate as the ugly reality, or at least my depiction thereof .In actual fact, I do get musical solicitations on my answering machine, not from clubowners(that aspect of life really does suck but I don't care anymore)but from other musicians wanting to hire me for gigs or people looking for a band. Not every day, but often enough.
I don't get a lot of ink from the local rags, and have had to push to get what I get. But I did forge a nice professional friendship with the guy who wrote the feature article- he would ask me questions about music or musicians, for which I was always glad to provide info on whatever he needed, and in turn he was very supportive of my musical efforts. And the guy who now writes for the weekly I think doesn't relate to what I do musically but at least tries when I ask him to put some words in there for me. And he has given me the "recommended listening" icon on occasion when I've had a gig listed.
Likewise, I've had to push for gigs, but have been called upon to play the Great Local Events from time to time. And there are the people who sit in front of you and talk- sometimes they sit in front of you and talk about you- but there are a few folks who are genuinely supportive of what I do, who enjoy my playing and so forth.
And though I don't meet nearly the women I'd like to--actually just one really good one would do, and if possible roughly the description above, in "Utopia"--it does happen. So not never. Just hardly ever. But it has happened. And of course I hope it happens again..
I guess I was doing what the late great psychologist Albert Ellis would call "awfulizing" in describing the ugly reality that is my existence, horrifying myself about everything that's happening- or NOT happening in any event. And then I tried describing it without the "awfulization". It still sucks, but at least I can continue to try and bridge that gap between what I have and what I'd like to have. I think I'll start with that short chick with the long straight hair and other attributes...
Nice work if you can get it. Few of us(even him, probably) can actually say we're living our dreams. Well if we're not already there, at least we can imagine our lives just as we'd like them to be, doing and living all the things that make us happiest. Actually I think it's a healthy exercise, however chimerical, however ridiculously improbable in reality, to put yourself in those shoes. Imagine you're really living your dream. At least you come out of it refreshed, feeling like maybe you could bridge that gap just a little bit--the gap between what is and what one would prefer it to be.
My ideal scene could be just about anywhere, so long as it's not too hot or too cold. It has to do more with the community and its acceptance of me as a musician, that sort of climate rather than relative distance from the Equator. For the sake of argument, let's just say my hometown, since this way I wouldn't have to move.
In my dream existence, I make enough money from gigs and lessons and CD sales so as not to have to work a dayjob. Actually there's enough money--I guess from the CD sales-- so that if I want to I can take a break from the gigs and lessons and not feel any kind of pinch. But I love to play and enjoy teaching, so I'm usually in there pitching.
Every day there are at least a few messages on the machine from clubowners wanting me to play in their establishments. Of course all the local spots are included(despite the fact that I'm from here!)but also venues from other cities and even other states. And the out-of-town places always offer lodging and travel expenses, sometimes even backup musicians.
The gigs themselves are always packed with people, but they're always quiet once the music begins. Of course the people love what we're doing, and every evening's performance ends with at least one encore tune. There are 'biz' people there who want to talk business with me on my breaks- but I've got a manager for that stuff, who handles it and gets back with me later. And there is always at least one beautiful girl who wants to meet me.
Flattering(and tempting) as it may be having all this attention from beautiful women, I have to be faithful to my girlfriend. She usually comes with me to the gigs anyway- and is a very pretty thing herself: very short(5'0" or even an inch or so shorter)with long straight hair and very large breasts. Being a musician herself(flute/saxophone or piano)she is sometimes in the group with me, but is usually there anyway and I have her sit in if possible. She always comes with me to my New Year's Eve gigs and is there to give me a big smooch at the stroke of midnight- and a big something else when we get home..
My CDs, once released, always get reviewed in the local newspaper as well as the local indie weekly without my even asking. In fact, they read the News page on my website and request advance copies of them once they find out about it. And there is a CD Release Party every time out, usually in one of the ballrooms of one of the local hotels, with a capacity crowd. Hundreds of CDs get sold that night.
Okay, then I wake up from the dream. I'm in Springfield fucking Illinois, the same town I made into a Utopia. I've overslept and have 5 minutes to get to my dayjob. No messages from clubowners, local or non-local. I have to call them and bug them, and usually get the runaround when I do get them on the phone. On the rare occasions when I get a gig from them, it's sparsely attended and quite often they sit in front of us and talk the whole time. And there are never any women who want to meet me, beautiful or not.
My CDs don't get reviewed by either local rag, even after dropping them off to the proper parties.. I did get a feature article in the newspaper some years back, but only because I called and bitched about the weekly paper ignoring my new CD.( The guy who used to write music reviews had it since March of that year and come New Year's Eve hadn't even touched it, just stuffed it in a drawer someplace and forgot about it, so I got miffed, to say the least- and this still pisses me off just a little.) Otherwise they just go unnoticed, just like me.
Well okay, there's the dream and there's the ugly reality. And then there's the actual situation, which is still far short of the dream but maybe not quite as desolate as the ugly reality, or at least my depiction thereof .In actual fact, I do get musical solicitations on my answering machine, not from clubowners(that aspect of life really does suck but I don't care anymore)but from other musicians wanting to hire me for gigs or people looking for a band. Not every day, but often enough.
I don't get a lot of ink from the local rags, and have had to push to get what I get. But I did forge a nice professional friendship with the guy who wrote the feature article- he would ask me questions about music or musicians, for which I was always glad to provide info on whatever he needed, and in turn he was very supportive of my musical efforts. And the guy who now writes for the weekly I think doesn't relate to what I do musically but at least tries when I ask him to put some words in there for me. And he has given me the "recommended listening" icon on occasion when I've had a gig listed.
Likewise, I've had to push for gigs, but have been called upon to play the Great Local Events from time to time. And there are the people who sit in front of you and talk- sometimes they sit in front of you and talk about you- but there are a few folks who are genuinely supportive of what I do, who enjoy my playing and so forth.
And though I don't meet nearly the women I'd like to--actually just one really good one would do, and if possible roughly the description above, in "Utopia"--it does happen. So not never. Just hardly ever. But it has happened. And of course I hope it happens again..
I guess I was doing what the late great psychologist Albert Ellis would call "awfulizing" in describing the ugly reality that is my existence, horrifying myself about everything that's happening- or NOT happening in any event. And then I tried describing it without the "awfulization". It still sucks, but at least I can continue to try and bridge that gap between what I have and what I'd like to have. I think I'll start with that short chick with the long straight hair and other attributes...
posted by Roger U Roundly at 7:56 PM
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