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Nothing bums me out more than the 50-something never-made-it rock n roller.

So I've been thinking. It would be unreasonable to qualify that statement with "lately", as this line of thought has been an obsession for some years now, but - I've been thinking: How do I avoid being That Guy? It's more difficult than I would have thought ten or fifteen years ago. I recognize that I am still pissed off at the fates and/or certain record company execs that Deathray never "made it". I still carry all this bitter resentment and sadness over what I vainly perceive to be the tragedy of a failed career. And I know this is relatively irrational, I KNOW that. But I still can't even listen to the music we made without getting sad and pissed, and that really, really sucks.

I should just be proud of the weird little albums we made and express endless gratitude for the ride and the people who put so much hard work into that whole project, some of whom I can't even remember anymore.

I thought I had the gene, the "fuck it, it doesn't matter, I'll just pick up and do it again and again because I don't know how to do anything else" gene. But that imprinted, illogical determination just got beat out of me after literally decades of the game. My father warned me once of becoming a bitter old failed musician asshat, and at the time I took it as more negative reinforcement, you know, "screw you old man - I'm gonna MAKE it!". But, and this kills me to say it - he was right, it's a slippery 30-year-long slope.

So the question remains, how can all of that pointless and unproductive narcissism be turned around before it's not just unattractive, but actually pathological?

Hm, I dunno. I'm thinking maybe a band reunion.

UN TOUR DE MANEGE from alexis liddell on Vimeo.

- Bob Marley

(via This Isn't Happiness)

Rest in peace, Trish from Broadcast.

It has been a fairly crap couple of weeks in this world. I couldn't even begin to comment on last week's events in Arizona. 2010 was a rough year for everyone, and 2011 isn't shaping up to be any easier.

2010: Speaking for myself, I can't remember worse, really. In the space of 12 months, I made a (misguided?) choice to stop taking some really awful drugs I had been on for years, was forced to confront a series of horribly wrong decisions I'd made, lost my grandmother after a long goodnight, and lost just about all of my friends. Almost my family.

But you wake up again, because, yeah, what your parents told you is true, life doesn't stop. Press Reset.

Most days, I just bury myself in work. Not to avoid it all, but simply to feel as if I still have a function. Just a simple set of responsibilities or tasks which I can complete with some level of competence or modest grace. Because it's a comfortable feeling I guess. Punch the clock. Here's a hammer, nail.

I understand that I don't deserve comfort, any more than the next asshole. I don't know what I'm even trying to say here. I wanted this space to be a little more than just funny clips and YouTube clowns and fireworks, but I hate this teen diary crap, even as I continue to write it and click "publish". Whatever. I'm just grateful for the few people still hanging around, even if we all have our doubts. Seems like that's the only thing left which makes any sense: doubt.

Whenever the *latest* shocking national tragedy occurs, or something good and right and seemingly pure just flat out dies, my watery brain just wants to add the weight to the already insane over-ballast in the tiny boat that I'm trying to keep afloat. And it's a validated fact: as a sailor, I'm shit.

So forgive me if this seems pathetic. I just get bummed out. We all do. And we all deal. So let's get on with it.

My heart goes out to all affected by the events in Arizona and to the Broadcast family.

via the amazing Ponytone