Even though I didn’t intend it to be so, my Tumblr has been a little bit of an explosion of my long pent-up desire to talk about music and write about music and share videos and songs.
You would think that, having been faffing about online for 17 1/2 years now, I might have found another outlet for this, but you would be wrong.
I think maybe it was a combination of outlet and inspiration. I did a little dabbling before but it wasn’t ever right. In previous blogging incarnations I had my dear friend C. to bounce off of- whose musical taste is scarily near-identical to Merlin’s, by the way (he introduced me to Steeleye Span and nearly every other band that scrolls by is a C. favorite), but the format wasn’t right. Now I’ve got a format that works, and clearly I’m finding some musical compatriots. Like the whole Richard Thompson-fest 2009 - which will spill into 2010 when he plays at the Great American.
And it’s been nice, because for a few years now I’ve lost that… love. For music. Which was sad because let me tell you. Music is in me. You should see me sing gospel if you want to see what I mean. Also hear. What I mean.
But really: this isn’t about that so much. This is just because. I’m not writing it today because today is the last day of 2009 and of the first decade and whatever and so on, but it’s a funny coincidence, and I’m awfully fond of those so here it is. This - because now you are wondering what this is - this is about the past, and about poking around in it and seeing what you find and being amazed by it and seeing it tumble before you. I started doing it the other day - thanks again to Merlin when he wrote that brilliant, gorgeous 10-year love letter to his wife - and it’s been rattling around in my brain ever since.
No, this isn’t about Pablo. Maybe another post about him soon. Or in 10 years.
What happened was that I was thinking about the Thinking Fellers playing at Bottom of the Hill 10 years ago. Which was when I was living in San Francisco the first time around. I did a little searching around to see if Steve Koepke’s wonderful The List was still around. Oh, the internet. Not only is it now available in searchable format, there are archives going back to 1994.
Wait. Before you click that. Just… hold on.
Once upon a time, I had a food blog.
Actually, I still have a food blog. It’s called Love & Butter. I just stopped updating it one day, when I realized I wasn’t meant to be a food blogger. Don’t get me wrong: I love food. Which sounds really stupid when you say it, because it’s like loving soft fluffy baby animals or original episodes of Sesame Street or Gilda Radner: Everyone loves food, and people who don’t are either Legitimately Not Interested For Whatever Reason or are being intentionally antagonistic while secretly shoving Mallomars in their faces at 3 a.m.
But for real: I love food. A LOT.
It’s that I didn’t like writing about it. I’d sit there at that blog prompt and suddenly get all pole-up-my-ass rigid. “You have to WRITE,” I’d tell myself. “You have to be FUNNY but also INTELLIGENT. Plus don’t forget it should sound interesting and well-written and writerly.” And then halfway boring posts would emerge, like pre-frozen pâte à chou turdlets, all full of promise but ugh. Plus as much as I love food, I also love other things. Like photography and going on adventures and getting my PhD (no, seriously, sometimes I do) and all the stuff you see me write and post about here. So I bailed on it. And went off to see if I could find my personal web logging home elsewhere. Somewhere I could cut loose and be me and not worry so much about Writing. Since I’m doing enough of that Elsewhere.
THAT BEING SAID.
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Wait. You mean. The past six and a half years. All the field research? All of this writing? And all of these tears and torment?!?!
Spam generator, it’s funny when you allow us to mock fear of the very large penis. But please don’t mock my pain.
You want to get something done. You want to write a novel, or make a movie, or make a video game. You want to be thin and beautiful, or maybe just rich and famous. Why haven’t you?
That’s not a rhetorical question. I’m not offering an excuse. If you want something done and it’s not done, there is no excuse. You haven’t done it. You probably ought to.
Remember also that nobody else will see your fears and weaknesses. You see those. Nobody else. They’re going to dwell on the parts of you they love. Excepting the assholes, of course, but don’t worry about the assholes. Nobody else likes them either.
It’s been said before. You’ve heard it before; you’ve heard it so much the words are mashed into a tasteless pulp you try your best to ignore. Stop ignoring. They’re words repeated for their wisdom. You can do whatever you want. The only reason you haven’t is that you’ve chosen not to.
You should read this whole thing. Maybe also print it out. Put it somewhere you can see it a lot.
But you know what else you should do?
WHATEVER IT IS. ALREADY.
Rory, you are aces.