I have a secret. Actually, many secrets. We all do. Small ones, horrible ones, inconsequential ones. But if you ask me what I had for lunch, it's akin to putting a knife to my throat and asking me to sell out my best friends, if, in a fictional bout of storytelling, they just happened to rob a bank and I was entrusted with that information and nobody was hurt. You know the saying, snitches get stitches.
The symptoms; throat constriction, brain fog, and suddenly finding myself in an intensely difficult moment which could be alleviated with uttering a few simple words, whatever they may me, about what I had for lunch. The most inconsequential questions become existential dilemmas. Vague is my due course. That is a character trait, years in refinement.
In my time, i've been able to get away with this in good style. It was much easier without social media. And even after, I could hide those simple pleasantries by way of social media interactions. After all, if I posted about where I was, why would I have to repeat said place to a girlfriend, or buddy, or anybody else? Now, this isn't a modus operandi about everything, just the simplest of pleasantries. The type of philistine chit chat we engage in as humans for some odd reason. At some point, the mere thought of these simple niceties became too exhausting with people whom I've known to some degree. Now, people I don't know so well, this is a non issue which is a sort of weird paradox all to itself.
Now, everything I wrote above is mostly metaphorical. It refers to the artist, the process and the work.
So, it's time to try another approach. Since I would like to practice what I preach, I will be sharing more information about process. Secret projects that I toil in for long lengths of time, well, now I will show you what goes on behind the curtain. This is not easy. This is total cognitive dissonance. But, I cannot tell another kid to share their work (and I mean process) without me doing it without abandon. We are living in an Austin Kleon, Seth Godin kind of world.
Burn those old ideas. Keep the head empty, and maybe, it can refill itself.
Of course, this experiment has a time limit. Till the end of the year. If it proves worthwhile to post clips of a fucking rehearsal, it will continue. If utter repulsion sets in, I have the rights to terminate my own self inflicted experiment.
Cheers my friends,
am