I have always spent an inordinate amount of time trying to “define” myself. I always have the underlying feeling that I need to do this-like I constantly am trying to justify my right to time on this planet. This always fails badly, as my definitions of my self are usually quite full of things like “fuck-up” and “phoney”, and other delightful personal descriptions. In fact, I spend so much time trying to explain myself that I really don’t get much else done.
I blame myself for failing so spectacularly as a musician, and feeling guilty that there are other interests alongside music that take my interest and time.
Yes, I am a musician. I was born one. But this doesn’t mean it has to be my “career”, or my sole one anyway. I also make things and I write. I want to make a whole orchestra out of recycled stuff and put on shows,with a travelling, raggedy troupe of like-minded people. I want to show other people about making stuff, about the treasures that are right under our noses, and I want to learn more and more about this. I want to learn how to survive and thrive in a post-apocalyptic landscape. I want to be brave like Angeliska and Pandora and Eugene Hutz and others.
Kisses and hugs