I think a lot about exhaustion, fear, ending it all. I think a lot about my place in the world, my uselessness when compared to others, the not-politically-correct but undeniable recognition that I missed my moment in modern America. I’ve got the FOMO and the YOLO and the PAGGLES and I WISH I could get my JOMO on, but that’s only ever sour grapes.
Today I was reading about Lizzo posting that she was “giving up” because of all the online hatred she’s a lightning rod for, and maybe I need to sit down and write her a letter (rather than my dumb ole Journal entry) to say that I know for a FACT she’s an inspiration to a bunch of the artists that I see on a daily basis at my open mics, a source of JOY to my partner Heather, and that I know it’s hard to see the Love for all the hate, but the Love for her is absolutely there.
But it’s easier to say than do. Goodness knows that every time I hear something negative about my body, my age, my race, my playing, my voice – it all outweighs almost every compliment, anything positive ever said and the absolute beauty that, objectively, I absolutely know surrounds me in my Life. The hatred that pours forth from the online “community” of listeners and viewers, watchers and judges is just invariably louder than the Love, at least to our own ears.
It makes me wonder how people like Donald Trump survive. Beyond even placing my opinion on the table, there’s such hatred for that man, and yet he seems to get along just fine, never second-guessing himself (I don’t give ANY credit to the idea that maybe he’s got a filter and simply never types any moment of doubt). I have greater faith in Biden’s humanity: that images of him being drawn and quartered painted on the back of some pickup truck probably DOES keep him up at night – if not from fear than simply from the knowledge that someone hates him THAT MUCH.
In this world it seems impossible to be plugged in as much as you need to be for self-promotion while simultaneously being buffered as much as you need for self-preservation. If your ego’s big enough to take the pummelling that anyone who stands out invariably receives, you’re probably a pretty un-self-aware entity. You need to be a big enough STAR in the world that someone else looks at all that shit for you and only tells you the good or the manageably bad. But if you’re young enough to have become a star in this world of online existence you probably came up entwined within that world and can no longer divorce yourself from it. The horrors of the masses are just too much for the individual.
Tell someone something good today. I’d say “it doesn’t take much”, but that’s a lie. It probably takes 10 compliments to actually outweigh that one negative comment from some nobody on the internet, but that one compliment, that moment of humanity and empathy, still has an impact, and maybe can keep someone from feeling like simply giving up…
And the second part of this is that as artists it feels like we don’t GET to give up. We’re role models and inspirations, even at my tiny little level, people would be disappointed – and maybe even be empowered to give up on their OWN dreams and … and even their LIVES (because when someone just yells “fine, I QUIT” I almost never think they’re simply talking about their social media presence or even career). I wrote about this with Chris Cornell, I think, years ago – that, especially once you’ve reached a certain level of fame it’s sort of like your Life is not your own any longer. For good or for ill, you owe the fandom something. You owe them some return on the investments of Love and adoration and support that you’ve received.
Ha. Of course, paying it back is something ELSE that Trump would never understand, but that’s neither here nor there.
In ANY case. I know I ramble. Ha. In any case I ALSO know it doesn’t matter. But maybe someday someone will read it, someone will think something positive, and pass it along. PRETENDING you matter isn’t a bad way to start.
Guess I’ll go write a letter to Lizzo.