Going into month two of what I call the 2021 “Hopeful Year” while searching for Love In The Time Of Cholera still here on the volcano.
It’s easy to announce change is coming. Hope is here, hope is coming. Determination to change, to create metamorphosis from what we were to what we need to be; what we absolutely fucking need to be.
So I make announcements. I sort some songs. I network with the right people. I leverage social currency – whatever that means. I get behind in other things to focus on what matters to me with this music – getting this music out to people – getting it out – my madra.
And then suddenly other people’s demands start banging on the door and try to barge in. I let them in. They need stuff. They are my artists, my clients, my family, my friends, more family, more clients, even more clients. Success in my law practice comes at a hefty price.
I am buried in work. So the vow to commit to this new EP; to finish the collection and start making announcements slides another day, another day, another day, a week – can’t let it slide a month. Exhaustion sets in with the work load and suddenly I feel the disconnect and dissonance of my determination and my commitments to others. And all these others are either people I intensely care about or at least they are good people deserving of my time – they pay the bills.
Now what?
So I stop what I am doing after a day of talk talk talk – strategize, rescue, innovate, draft, negotiate, draft, some more, write, emails, more emails, research, talk some more, review color pallets for the website with Janinne – I literally have no fucking idea what color to pick. I stop. This activity ranting makes me stop.
I click on the drop box to look at all the photos we took almost a month ago. WOW – all 404 of them. I start clicking through. I have done this a million times for OTHER artists. Long ago I did this for me. It starts coming back. What am I looking for? - certainly not perfection.
And there it is – symbolically wearing not one but two stage outfits at once that I wore “back in the day.” Standing by my favorite restaurant – well actually around the corner of Life On Mars – waiting for COVID to finish its rampage so they can re-open. And really it’s all about the mural that Avril and I found while driving around in the rain in Capital Hill, Seattle that reminded me of metamorphosis. Waiting to become that butterfly I promised myself. Waiting in the desert. Waiting while far from water like a mermaid under a desert moon. I promise myself it’s coming – I pick this photo. I review the mix, I make more notes. And I remind myself that relapses against my torrent of workaholism is part of the deal. I forgive myself and call Justin and tell him the vocal needs to be warmer. The song is coming - I swear it is. Soon Comes Mermaid Under A Desert Moon.
Photo by the extra ordinary Avril Lum cp 2021
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