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  • Writer's pictureBrian Martin

Stay On Track

Jan 09, 2020:

Every day is a test. Drink alcohol? Don’t drink alcohol? (Do drugs count?) Eat, but nothing bad for you (yeah sure). Write, but make it interesting (sounds like a challenge). Pick up the guitar, no don’t just pick it up, play it, give it life, make it dance, take it to bed with you (at least that’s what Keith Richards recommends, and he ought to know). Back to acting class (next level), bring the make pretend (hey, I’m the great pretender. Okay, that’s a line in someone else’s song). Hit the gym and this time put some effort into it (actually that’s not fair, I put the effort in every time, that’s why I’m always so fucking sore).

Do I sound a little bitter? Like somebody that just returned from a nice respite in a warm comfortable place only to return to the cold miserable rain, and New Year realities? Possibly, but not every day can be a diamond, can it? Sometimes, I need a little angst in my life just to help me uncover those deeper, more carefully concealed thoughts. The kind of thoughts that I might not otherwise discover if all I did was lie back in a lounge chair by a heated pool and let the warm sun kiss my face while enjoying a cold beverage.

Sure, I get it, a comfortable place sounds pretty blissful, especially when there’s fresh grapefruit, lemons and oranges getting hand-picked every morning from the very fruit trees that beautify the surroundings, but I’m fairly certain though that I would be nothing short of food for the hungry as well if all I did was dawdle about. Just like the low-lying produce harvested from those trees, I could be next.

After returning home I noticed my back fence (on the alley side) snapping apart once again. The wind, rain and the hedges conspiring to cause me repair work when the weather gets nicer. Then there’s the animals ravishing my back yard a second time (only worse) after I had repaired the initial damage. I think they belong to the mob or something and I guess I haven’t been keeping up on my monthly payments. All I’m asking for is a little respect.

Perhaps trust is more important though. I took my first foundations class (acting) this week and one of the exercises we did was to be blindfolded while our partners (who were not) walked us about the block outdoors, having us do modest tasks like stepping up and down stairs, negotiating uneven and diverse terrain, or locating and sitting in chairs simply by heeding their instructions. Listening skills are a definite asset. Maybe those raccoons could learn something here.

I’ve made attempts to communicate with the music video guy and also the open mic guitar guy, but one hasn’t responded yet and the other is busy, busy, busy. I’m getting the feeling (a sense acquired by many such encounters) that I’ll be moving on. The search for like-minded people can be a little tricky sometimes. It’s not any one person’s fault necessarily (unless of course, they are legitimately full of shit, which does happen as well), but everyone tells you what you want to hear on first contact. It doesn’t take very long after that however to sort out aspirations and commitment levels.

I’ve been reading a book that I got for Christmas written by Keith Richards called Life where in (in the beginning of the book anyways) he outlines the trials and tribulations of not only meeting but keeping the talent needed to move forward in a cohesive direction. It’s almost supernatural that one of the world’s most notorious heroin users can be so laser focused. Maybe, drugs do count after all.

Until next time.

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