With better lyrics this time!
Warning, some people (I assume) may find this very creepy.
It’s certainly better written than my Trump thing, which now embarrasses me.
Which means my artistic talent is evolving rapid, because the Dumb Donnie song was just a couple of days ago.
Presumably, I will find my little goth ditty embarrassing soon as well, but for now, I am more or less pleased with it.
One thing that bugs me, though, is that I can’t change the lyrics after Riffusion has rendered the song once. I can go into the lyrics and edit them but when I render the song again, the lyrics don’t change.
Guess I better start trying to get it right the first time, at least with the lyrics, which are my main contribution other than describing the vibe I want.
So next time I do this, which will probably be in a couple of days, I will have to keep working on the lyrics until I am sure they are good enough.
Not something I have a lot of experience doing. But I think I am finally ready to get past the “cheerfully pushing out first drafts” stage of my artistic growth and into actually trying to do my art properly.
I give it about a fifty fifty chance of working. I have a lot of emotional instability and wobbly self-esteem to overcome before I can truly become a real creator.
I just have to keep telling myself that my work is already amazing but being able to bear down and make it as good as I possibly can will take it from amazing to super mega incredible or possibly even legendary.
Maybe even good enough for someone to give me money for it!
Then I can REALLY show the world what I can do.
Still, I have my doubts. I may just end up hating myself and thinking I have no real talent at all except a proclivity for self-delusion.
I mean, I hope not, but it’s a real possibility.
I feel like so far my artistic output has been really sloppy and halfassed. I’ve gotten away with it because I am frankly so talented that my halfassed work is better than most people’s three and a half assed best, but that doesn’t make it good enough.
At some point, the diamond in the rough has to start refining themselves.
I could start trying to get an agent. Might be hard without the imprimatur of some gatekeeper or another saying my work is worth something, but I could at least link some of my videos and stories.
Assuming any of them are good enough.
Told ya I was unstable.
Honestly, an agent would be so good for me. It’s exactly what a loosely woven creative weirdo like me needs : someone with focus and drive and competence and a vested interest in selling my work because he or she gets a cut.
And social skills. Mostly of the networking variety – knowing people, having lots of contacts in the business, knowing who to talk to about what and where, and that kind of thing. I don’t have any of that.
I can be pretty charming in person, but I have been a total outsider for most of my life and that kind of makes networking tricky.
I don’t know the kind of people who know people who know people and so on.
Agents do that kind of thing for a living. Their entire real job is dealing with the real world for us dreamy creative types so we can concentrate on making good stuff.
It’s very symbiotic.
Imagine having someone actively looking for work for me!
I can only dream.
And look around, natch.
More after the break.
Don’t be a baby
I can no longer dodge the realization that I have certain infantile characteristics.
Thought not for lack of trying.
Passivity is the main one. Some deep and deadly part of me is convinced that if I am a good baby and wait patiently long enough, someone will come do everything for me.
Not an easy thing for a man, even one as non-macho as me, to admit.
That’s joined at the hip with the learned helplessness. The passivity is reinforced by the deep down sense that my only form of agency in the world is to attract some sympathetic person to help me.
And that’s a terrible life strategy for many, many reasons.
For one thing, nobody offers a lot of sympathy to giant bearded fat dudes. My friends do, thank God, but the world at large doesn’t exactly look at me and see helplessness.
But mainly the problem is that it requires you to remain helpless and weak and infantile or you start to feel the only agency you know slipping away and you’re faced with the ultimate horror of having to face life all alone.
To your infantile program, that reads as being abandoned, and that is every child’s worst fear. Children know, instinctively, that without caretakers they are doomed.
Hence the feeling, even in a 52 year old toddler like myself, that I can’t possibly make it on my own. And a lifelong history of hiding behind others and making them deal with reality for me instead of learning to do things by myself.
And I have been in this state of suspended infancy for 30 years.
Only now do I feel like I am finally reaching the stage where I conclude that Mommy and Daddy aren’t coming and therefore that it’s time for me to get the hell out of this high chair and toddle off to look for them.
Or forage for myself. That’s the more likely outcome.
After all, Mommy’s on the other coast and Daddy is dead. I can’t imagine there’s anyone who’d want to look after me and if they did they are probably even more broken than I am and not at all to be trusted.
So I guess it’s time for me to just wander off. I used to be quite good at that. I would wander around the neighborhood, wander away from my parents, wander around the library at school. I was a great wanderer at one point.
Then bullying came along and I was scared of everything.
Time for me to start wandering again.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.