I am going to die sooner than expected. And when I do, I want to be listening to 'Search and Destroy' by Iggy and the Stooges, not 'Death Take Your Fiddle' by Spiritualized. I want the blaze of glory death, the last shootout with me and Sundance running out into a martyr freezeframe and dissolve to black. Poetic. Beautiful. It's hard to tell anymore if this artist's life is benefiting me, or anyone for that matter. I sit, I write stuff, sometimes on regular job time, I go out, I perform, I give to my agent and yet lives remain exactly the same and I'm expelling the same amount if not more of energy putting in time with this abstract notion of artistry.
And it makes me fucking ill. I don't eat regularly, I lose body heat quickly, I'm ill more than I'm not and I drink more beer than water on gig night. And what of these gigs in venues where the attendance is determined by how many of your friends want to plaster on a fake smile and come down and see you for the teenth time.
I got ideas, ideas for days, here's hoping someone picks something up soon.
In the meantime, pass the echinacea and make me a hot honey and lemon.
Brain Drain #3 - Photos
7 years ago