Chicken vs pork
Friday January 27th 2012, 10:39 pm
Filed under: myjobfuckingsometimesdoesntrock,nextish Tags:

Despite my resolve to bring in the new year with jazz, I find myself listening to ever more obscure (by my standards, which isn’t saying much) indie bands. Despite my resolve to catch some live jazz, to make going to see new or excititing or just foundational gigs central to my life, instead, 3 weeks in to the year, I’m closer to heading to the echo and the troubadour and the venues of bands that aren’t jazz.

Yesterday’s resolve of confidence upheld, to a certain extent, but moderated by the changed responsibilities of being he who has rather than he who wants. Making those outside feel welcome, and that they have a place, even if it’s not all the way in. Making those adjacent feel valued, a tiny bit less contingent, even though they’ll always be contingent precisely because they’re a little less valued, not quite esteemed in the same way. The reminder, basically, that being right is less important than being a good person sometimes. That being bold from within the establishment isn’t necessarily boldness, but can be rude, ruthless, careless, or cruel. Trying too hard, perhaps, is one read of the confidence of yesterday’s and yesteryear’s nothing to lose. But there’s plenty left to risk and plenty to lose, and plenty to lose by not risking loss.

Missed a month
Thursday January 26th 2012, 11:33 pm
Filed under: bored now,something new,Work Tags:

Damn. Still planning on renewing the site’s registration next month, though. A nominal fee to keep nostalgia that extra bit accessible. A day of the trivial but time consuming, today, 7 hours of informal tutorials, meetings, supplemental obligations. And the realization, at the vey end, that I lack confidence. Now, reader(?s), I realize this sounds unlikely, uncharacteristic, perhaps even impossible. But, I assure you, it’s true. I lack the irrational, excessive, overblown confidence I once had. The confidence (or, dead can dance style, dangerous-ness) of a man with nothing to lose. And, more importantly, everything to gain. And there, with nothing and the promise of everything, I was unstoppable. But I got the girl and I got the job and suddenly I had everything to lose. And somehow it wasn’t until this evening (that I can recall, in my mushy slushy alcohol-soaked middle age) that I realized I missed that fearlessness. Not the passion, as I imagined it and was delectably disillusioned by an old friend reminding me that I’d never felt passion for aught but success on my own terms. But, the conviction. A chat about Geoffrey, of all of the unlikely authors, and his politics and the disconnect of said politics from his parentage. A simple point, really, the individual vs. the collective past. But suddenly one that came with the fuck-it-I’m-making-this-point-without-reservation-and-without-hesitation-and-without apology-or-compromise resolve of yesteryear, of a life dimming everywhere but around the edges given the magnitude of that which might be lost. Not living in fear, exactly, but certainly living on the defensive. Fuck that. Bored now. Bored for a while, actually, but I think I found a focus. Maybe this time.