Lately I’ve been struggling with creative inspiration.
I’ve been late to reply to emails, shoddy at fulfilling writing commitments, sluggish to decide on music submissions, and absent on my own podcast. I haven’t written a song in months, my journal pages have been blank since January, my mixed media project is 75% complete, and I have a stack of unread library books by the front door. The other day, I couldn’t decide on a movie so I just watched an hour and a half worth of trailers, most of which were from the 80’s and 90’s (I came this close to watching Working Girl).
Basically, I feel mentally bankrupt and the only thing that I can muster up the energy to do is put on my blank, anonymous artist’s glaze and sketch strangers on the subway. At least in crowded café and clustered streetcars, I feel like no one is expecting anything, no one is judging, no one is watching with a critical eye. I am finally free in an outlet all my own.
As many of you know, Sasha and I celebrated our blog’s fourth birthday this month, and with that came the realization that with much potential comes missed opportunity. I was reviewing past posts and wondering, “Could you have tried harder here? Could you have written more, explored this discography in greater depth? Could you have done a custom illustration for this feature? Could you have agreed to that interview?” A more ambitious version of myself is kicking the sandwich out of my current’s self’s hands.
Sometimes I wonder how other bloggers & journos do it. How does one wrap 1000+ neat words into a pithy post complete with a pleasantly drôle yet incisive b&w sketch? I feel like I need to learn Adobe Illustrator and a billion other complex design programs (as well as five coding languages) just to stay relevant.
What can I offer at the party? A side-scrolling verbal wrap-up of current events? A dumb and erratic dance sequence? Crumbs on my tits?
At this point, I’m looking for something to inject me with a sense of purpose. But for now, since this is a music blog, I want to clean out the inbox. That’s mainly the point of these Grab Bag Posts – it’s my effort to stay on top of things (failing miserably). One day, I will find the right balance of posting exactly what I want and honouring our obligation to undiscovered musicians. I am searching for it every day.
Sometimes I consider yanking down our blog email address, but then I wouldn’t have met the absolutely LOVELY GEMS of First Rate People, Delta Will, Walrus, Sheepman, High Diner, The Planes, The Blank Tapes, Ketamines, Jay Arner, Faux Fur, Michael Rault, The Dirty Nil, Yoofs, Lost On Purpose, Adam Torres, plus people like Leaning Trees Records, Graveyard Orbit, Mike of My Boy The Riot Girl, Jason of Astral Travelling, ect.
Ever since you came up to me, ever since the door was open, it might have been me who left it open, I can’t know it all. There are streets and there are signs, there are worse and better times, but across these gender lines, I might need you.
I say I’m not scared of dying, I say I’ll be just fine, well I’m lying.
It seems to be the way I feel today.
Want to sleep ’til my feeling is gone.
When she closed her eyes and whispered to me softly, seems so long ago.
I’m better than the trash on the city street.
The energy between us is bigger than ourselves.
And even in my dreaming, my thoughts lost all meaning.
What would you need to feel, like all that you do is real?
I never gave a shit about the turning of the tides, leading an aimless life.
I’m on the one side, keeping a signal. Calling the sound back.
And when I think of what we had… inside. Oh, you know I’ve cried. And don’t you think that it’s too bad, so sad, that it had to die?
I don’t care about your man.
Everyday I was aching.
And all songs don’t fill the hole that I’ve felt since I was born.
Adam Torres Facebook
Lay me down, long shallow grave. Lay me down the high, lonesome way.