It's a funnnnny honey.

First off, I want to apologize for actually writing a "blawgh". Okay. Done.

Anyway.

I've been talking to a lotta pals who are taking a turn.
"THE MILK ISN'T THERE" they cry, with either disdain or disbelief or what could actually be relief (abject terror or error aside).

I find it terribly funny... all this and all. Or just terribly greasy. It's interesting, nevertheless... running into folks who discover the taste of failure for the first time; discover that recognition for "all your hard work" is quantified in measures of futility. But it's a Q word that reigns.

"Should I QUIT?"

Or is Q for QUALITY?

What IS that, anyway? Quitting, quality, questions. Quantity, quantified. There's a punk frown in this that shrugs and turns its back and says, "you've been duped". Well, yeah. Of course you have!

I recall doing a show in Boston. Here's the list:

I got the invite, responded with "sure", expected an experimental line-up, it turned out to be a rock show, I was relegated to last, the idiot-girl who set up the show appeared for a brief five minutes and then left for the (haha) "cool" show down the street, aaaaaaand the sneaky suspicion through all of this was the realization that "you're sloppy seconds, no wait... thirds? Fourths?". And you know what? Despite my feelings at the time, I mean, I was ready to simply walk out, middle digit extended, et cetera... I decided to try for the third party parable; take the TURN known as the paradigm shift. So I walked throughout the club and asked everyone left (the ten or fifteen stragglers) if they'd like to see something different. They responded in the affirmative, and much to my surprise, trundled on up to the stage with beers in hand, and indulged me: I played my lil' butt off for 'em.
Know what? We all went home with grins.

The turn, man. The turn says something else.

I say, sure. You're not cool enough, you've been duped, you've been trundled, and welcome, stranger, to the sideshow of life.

We aspire for peer accolades. But who are the peers? And isn't all just a little bit made-up? WHAT'S the drive that possesses you to drink the milk, take the cookie, mouth the bait/get hooked?

Q-word time again.

1. QUALITY.
Subjective, sure. Folks are too afraid to say what does or doesn't suck. The lines have been removed in such a manner that the entire _________ thing has no conscious clue. In exchange it's become quite self-conscious. Introspection under intense magnification is kinda icky.

2. QUIT.
It's a concrete act. Go for it. Why not? It's all in yer kebab anyway. PS. Kebab = mind.

3. QUESTION. There's an innate inability to gesture forth that little interrogative statement that might (for example) undermine the whole fragile circus. I say USE that Q-word as much as possible. Undo the done.

There's no conspiracy, I'd imagine. Well, maybe there is one. I laugh when I hear of the enemies I have made out there, unbeknownst to me! For every one of those, there are at least twenty or thirty pals... probably more. If being a third or fourth rate act is all you can see for yourself, then, well, it sucks to be you and your teensy wounded ego. But remember this: if the bar is set so low, then all you can do is go up. Plus there's something to be said for setting the bar every time you create.

I guess I'm not really sure who I'm writing this for. Good friends? Younger colleagues? No one in particular? Casting an aspersion-worm into the scenester mentality that has usurped a community? But what community? My own is comprised of the best friends I could ever imagine, all from different walks and practises, and nothing like this web community/discussion-board entity that sets a rather acrimonious tone. A rather dull tone, actually; obtuse, even. I don't know the chorus nor do I care to, but I DO know this: there was a time when I discovered that there were rules of conduct: how to act, what to wear, and what your "style" of expression had to be; unspoken rules, but rules all the same. In addition to this, you had to chummy-up to a lot of people whose work was okay (at best) but never once merited a set of puckered lips to the pooper. It seemed like if-you-kissed-enough, you'd eventually get noticed. You know what? Yeah, surprise, this works! But it's also a great way to get herpes. Fast forward ten years later, and THAT'S a lotta transmission of fluid! But all good diseases eventually snuff themselves out. I figure it's the nature of things when hardier strains of bacteria push to the surface as well. I've taken a lot of antedotes over the years, mind you. Running to the hills and keeping away from the strains is a pretty good method of self preservation. The best method however, is understanding what the virus is. Knowledge, my friend. And don't forget that grain of salt.

You might want to invest in a few kilos of sodium chloride before you quit quality-quantified-questioning-queries...