I’d rather balk than balkanize
I’m guessing I owe some kind of explanation. The other night I posted something that, well, was pretty much a rant. It’s really easy to get worked up about celebrity entitlement, and when things aren’t going right, to get resentful when it looks like empty-headed, vain and entitled people seem to get everything handed to them on a platter. When I was going through my rough time, which lasted a couple of years, I would sometimes seek diversion by looking at tabloidy websites that serve up the latest doings of the young, beautiful and fabulous. I could get downright bent out of shape when I would read about somebody who was getting offered a five-figure sum to come to our fair city for a couple hours of face time at a nightclub, plus hotel rooms and expenses for her entourage, when I didn’t have the scratch in my pocket to buy a cheap dinner.
Things have taken an upward turn now, and I’m kind of dumbstruck by my improving fortunes. And in part because I don’t want to jinx anything, and in part because I agree with the Dalai Lama when he says, “My religion is kindness,” I felt very strong pangs of contrition when I woke up the next morning to go to work. So I took the post down.
Yes, I am a big pussy. But really, I sign my name to this stuff, and it’s up there where people can read it. And as I really would like to be successful in my latest endeavors, I feel quite conflicted when I’m so optimistic and friendly in one breath, and then spewing such mean-spirited stuff in the next. Does that make any sense?
Plus, I really would like to do good work. I have some pretty good ideas and ambitions, and I don’t want to jeopardize them because I put some butthurt rant up where I was going for lots of cheap laughs at somebody else’s expense. I really don’t need to do that, and it works against the grain of this whole spiritual experience I’ve been having, call it a coming of age, over the past months and years.
By spiritual, I mean that something happened in my crashing and burning, and the person who is here now isn’t the same one who was there a few short years ago. The metaphor of the phoenix may apply with this, as a lot of me got burned up after everything collapsed, and what has emerged is different and, I’m guessing, far stronger and more resilient. What I think got burned away are a lot of the more selfish, self-centered and miserly parts of me, and what is left, if I can honor it, is a core person who will be there for other people in a way that I never was before.
I apologize for the new-age babble. The point is that I’ve got what looks like a shot at a fairly decent life, and I’d rather not do as I have in the past when I’ve been given good chances, which is muck it up by being an idiot. I’m not promising that I’ll never be an idiot again, and chances are that I may be one tomorrow, or even later today, or for some of you reading this, right now, but if I can be reasonably certain that I’ll be mindful and choose not to be a dope more often than not, things will most likely continue on an uphill grade.
So here it is Sunday, and it’s the Fourth of July, and I’m posting from a laundromat. One must have clean clothes. Sometime soon, I’ll have some new threads, too. Anyway, after this, I’ll probably stop by at least one barbeque, and then go practice my tunes some more. For those of you who may be interested, I think I’m playing tomorrow night at Dad’s Kitchen on Freeport, between Vallejo and Fifth, on the patio around six until eight. Not sure, but I’m gonna show up anyway. Then, Thursday, I’m on at Naked Lounge at 1111 H Street (at 11th) with David Watts Barton; that show starts at 8:30 and cover’s $5 but it will be $5 well spent. And then on Saturday, I’ll be at the Toyroom Gallery at Surreal Estates for a day party; there’s lots of stuff going on, starting at noon.
So, well, that’s today’s update. —Jackson Griffith