May 7, 2014
As I walked to the coffee shop today, the words began to formulate in my head... they'd been stewing- marinating for years. I can't really do anything else. I can't hold down a regular job. I'm a dreamer - I studied philosophy, the most impractical subject imaginable. I hate shared open office space. Not having to talk to people is an advantage of being a stay-at-home-hermetic-writer who enters the world of rock n' roll at night as a way of reminding himself he's not alone and that he belongs somewhere... and that there are contributions to be made. Ultimately, the art made is as much a gift as it is a catharsis.
For most of my life I have wandered the halls of uncertainty, fear, insecurity and skepticism... my life becoming a living manifestation of a T. S. Eliot poem... but as we near the time when decisions must be made- right or wrong, they must be made, and we begin living again. I threw myself into the world of the Bangkok underground scene haphazardly not knowing what was there and where it would go. I needed it. Out of chaos, came a purpose, a mission and suddenly my life took on meaning. I was doing things I enjoyed and getting more energized from it. The “rock philosopher” moniker was an inside joke – the equivalent of being unemployed and functionally useless in every day society – I'd have more luck as a sideshow clown. Still we cannot deny what we truly are – to do so is only to give into societal demands, what our parents wanted, what our spouses require. It is no surprise people live with such despair as they are living someone else's dreams.
There was a time when I wanted to work in a university just so I could wear a tweed jacket, put on a posh English accent and pretend to be someone else. This morning, I woke up, put on a Grateful Dead shirt, slipped on sandals and walked to the coffee shop (it would have been a good idea to put pants or shorts on!) and walked to the coffee shop next to the gas station in my neighborhood. As the sun beat down on me and my thought drifted to the beaches of Hua Hin and Cha-am, I remember the dwindling savings, all the things I need to organize and write about... and the vice of Obi-wan Kenobi: Use the Force! I somehow believe the fate of my life is tied to rock n roll ruminations – I can do nothing else so perfectly honest. Having a safe job with security should mean everything at the midway point of my life, but I'm not living for retirement. I don't plan on retiring. If the rest of my life all I do is go to shows, take pictures, record bands, do stupid podcasts that 10 people listen to, then on my death bed, I'll know I lived the life of my own dreams. If I also get to play some music and travel around the world, promoting peace, creativity, and justice... well that would be good too. I don't believe that artists are useless entertainers. The revolution the world needs will come from the artist.
Ben Kenobi is telling me to go to more shows, talk to more bands, do more collaborative projects, put my ego aside... and just do stuff with like-minded people.
I'm a philosopher of rock – I write for dreamers.