Sunday, July 24, 2022

Singing. Not necessarily sorted.

 I guess this thing has gone off the rails as far as telling the story of a band. I’m probably just telling the story of me. I didn’t mean to, but intentions don’t really mean what we think they do: they tend to not really be any salve at all. 

When I was in my 20s I played in a band that never got famous, though we thought that if it had a lot of our problems would be gone. I never really recovered from not “making it”. I never really grew up or took on an adult life. Petulantly, I stopped playing much at all. I don’t write enough. I don’t think I can really call myself a writer or a musician anymore and, if I’m honest, I don’t know if I ever should have. It was self-important and not backed up with the sort of hard work that marks a musician or a writer. 

But this is a pity party and I didn’t invite you to that.

Also, in my 20s I collected people. Mostly women I got to know while playing. Some were a little interested in me, either as a mess or an option or a project. I would sometimes drink too much and call them and dump. Other times I would go out and have them watch me get drunk. It wasn’t very grown up, but I can see better now that I was pretty depressed. In a clinical sense, not an existential one. I mean, that, too, but chemically there is something wrong with me. 

 And I can’t say that changed. I got married and found that hard and often disappointing. I never really got over the failure of not making the entire world love me. The natural conclusion would have to be that I am unlovable. I don’t think that’s true, anymore. I’m plenty lovable. I just don’t know how to talk to  people anymore and when I do I don’t have any sense of how to receive that love. I think the greatest failure of my life hasn’t been any of that stuff up above: not marriage or the band that never got where I wanted it to. Not work failings or parenting failures: My biggest regret is not getting back up. 

My biggest regret is sitting here at 5 in the morning writing this like some guy who peaked in high school. Next weekend I have my 30 year anniversary and I’ll wonder who peaked then and I’ll know in the back of my head that I peaked, too. It was ten years later, but I did. I don’t think I’m gonna laugh at those people anymore. 

Tonight I went to Pat’s and we all talked about who we used to be. We told those old stories again and I didn’t know what to say. As much as I pretend I always want to be moving forward and I don’t care where I’ve been, I still find myself exalted in the handful of wins and devastated by the final failure. I still wonder what I didn’t have and I still don’t really try at much of anything because I’m still stuck in the failure. 

In my 20s I played in a band that never got famous. In my 40s I sat still being the guy who, in his 20s played in a band that never got famous. 

I’m sad tonight. I guess I don’t have anyone in my phone to call and dump on. I have this. I’m afraid to say these things and I’m afraid not to. I want to be connect again and I want to want things. 

Maybe if I say it I might get braver. Inch by inch. I’m not gonna want to be famous anymore. I don’t think that even sounds good anymore. But I know I should want something. I’m not a Buddhist, I’m a coward. I haven’t eliminated suffering by killing desire: I have simply numbed myself by not risking myself. 

I’ll check in as I figure this out. I woke up at 2:30 and I couldn’t get back to sleep. All I keep thinking this morning is that I’m lost. I’m so in free fall. 

I thought it would be more dramatic; more epic. It’s not, you know? It’s a Sunday. I’ve been living here for 20 years, almost. I’ve been lost for a long time. Realizing this, noticing it? Well, I thought there might be a soundtrack. Turns out it’s just another night. The rain is heavy tonight. I’m just gonna say this and then get in the shower and go to work. I hope this was heard as I intended. I’m struggling, but I’m trying very hard to be done suffering. I let myself have tonight, this suffering. Now back to a struggle. It’s a better promise. 

1 comment:

  1. You are loved and appreciated. I thank Tony Gaudio for introducing me to you and your band. Me and my friends went to see you at many places in the Naperville/Aurora area. We saw you at the Thirsty Whale and Metro in Chicago. Among others. I understand what sadness and loneliness feels like. Your music got me through so many things in my life. My college life would not have made sense without you. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete