I’m a little disillusioned having not been allowed to play open mic last night. It’s been a while since I took up that mantle and it was more than a little disappointing to see the welcome’s just as cold, in fact perhaps colder, than when I last went.
I do try to cling onto some little piece of confidence when it comes to my music but it’s pretty difficult when I basically have no output for it anymore. I’m going to try and change that over the summer with a few recordings but at the moment, and for the last 6-8 months it’s kind of felt like the world’s resisting my efforts in that area of the arts.
And you can’t very well say ‘fuck you’ to the world and expect a coherent response unfortunately.
It makes me really miss being in a band, like I don’t already miss that a stupid amount, and while yesterday’s sunburn thankfully turns into a tan rather than sunstroke I still wonder if there’s a chance of that happening again. These days it seems like a pointless dream, more romantic than realistic, but still it’d be nice to regain that little piece of my world that’s missing.
There’s still a little part of me, probably not the part that knows I can’t sing and am an average guitar player at best, the part that gets chills when the words start flowing out of my fingertips and gets those same chills whether it be on keyboard or pen. Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps it is a bigger part of me than I give it credit for, and it loves to write. There are hundreds of songs it wrote and hundreds more it wishes to write, but what good are songs if there are never to be heard? What good is music when you know that Justin Bieber has somehow amassed more fans than you will ever have? It’s hard not to be a pessimist when that’s your nature, but when you feel yourself becoming more optimistic and then look back at your music with different eyes… Well, I know where I stand to say the least.