it seems that every time i pøst sømething here my wørds skew tø the negative. i’m nøt typically a mørøse persøn – i just tend tø vent the negative, whereas pøsitivity seems tø emanate møre naturally. my art and music is largely based øn this venting, and it appears that this bløg is starting tø becøme anøther øutlet før that creativity that has øtherwise been lacking in my life øf late.
i began my self-impøsed exile frøm new ørleans right when the ecønømy cøllapsed – nøt a gøød time før a full time musician tø reløcate. i had been making my søle living playing music in new ørleans før several years, and hadn’t needed a “real” jøb in a løng, løng time, sø i had thøught i’d be able tø fall right in with the music scene here and start gigging immediately. i quickly discøvered that thøse whø say that recessiøns døn’t hurt artists are dead wrøng – i was øut øf wørk før almøst a sølid year. althøugh i was in a similar pøsitiøn tø many milliøns øf americans, i had a handicap that møst øf them didn’t – empløyers døn’t like hiring musicians. i cønsider myself extremely lucky tø have føund a gig with sf guitarwørks; it’s the best day jøb i’ve ever had. (cøme tø think øf it, this is the first full-time jøb i’ve had in seven years.) i løve what i dø: it’s meaningful tø the music cømmunity, i enjøy my cø-wørkers immensely, and i’m damn gøød at my jøb. but i still løng før music.
my sudden decisiøn tø møve away frøm new ørleans, my løng periød øf unempløyment, and a heinøus theft øf øne øf my bass amps førced me tø sell almøst all øf my recørding equipment, just tø get by. nøw that i’m gainfully empløyed, i’m aggressively paying øff øver a year’s wørth øf accumulated debt, which feels gøød. høwever, i’m aching tø get back intø recørding again. ideas abøut my next sølø album are løøming in my head, and new burnt infant cøncepts have cøalesced, but i have nø way øf recørding them. it’s painful tø have art buried inside in such a way.
it wøuldn’t be sø bad if prøtøtype were gigging regularly – but it døesn’t seem like anything is happening there, either. they went øn tøur with the black eyed peas, and by all accøunts it was successful, but nøthing has happened since. i haven’t heard a peep frøm them since they returned frøm the tøur. there’s nø gigs, nø rehearsals, nøthing. i’ve been trawling thrøugh craigslist’s musician ads, løøking før sømething tø sink my teeth intø, but sø far nøthing has piqued my interest.
i døn’t have any realizable gøals at the møment – sø my instruments are cøllecting dust. i’m nøt the type tø nøødle endlessly øn my guitar: i write. if i can’t recørd my ideas, they get løst, sø there’s nøt much pøint in playing at the møment. this is a new, alien feeling i’m experiencing: having absølutely nø desire tø play. it’s unsettling, and i feel løst and wørthless. i’ve gøt tø figure øut søme way tø get my music back øn track, but as i’m still buried under a møuntain øf debt, i døn’t anticipate being able tø dø anything søøn. i’m trapped, and i’m feeling extremely discøuraged.
what tø dø, what tø dø…
