My Bipolar Journal - Episode 189

My Bipolar Journal – Episode 189

March 18, 2008

Ok, so some of you will take this personally. And I’m sorry, but you damned well should.

I have been busting my ass for nearly a decade now, not quite, but nearly to try to get your music heard. Well, those of you that don’t suck balls. And honestly, if you did, you probably wouldn’t be my My Space friend on this page.

I try very hard to not be that person that makes you feel like you wasted your time at a show when sometimes we all know that you did. There are also nights where you feel like you didn’t waste your time, but it leaves you aching and wondering why it wasn’t better. You know what? That’s the mother fucking lifestyle you’ve chosen. Not every night is great and if you play every single night within a fifteen mile radius of your last show over the last two or three nights, well, it’s most likely that they never will be.

What gives you motivation to play my club? I don’t fucking know! What gives me motivation to book your band? Actually saying, “Well, no one shows up to see the sound guy?” Fuck you? Next time, you can totally play at a show at my club. I will have no sound guy, no door guy, hell; I won’t even bartend you show. I hope it goes really fucking well for you. Do your 12 people keep my bar open? Fuck no. Do I want your 12 people? Hell yes! And then I want to give you advice and all you can say is give me my ten bucks, cause I’m tired. Apparently, you know everything that ever needs to be known. That’s why you made 10 bucks. Because you’re that fucking awesome.

You know what’s even more upsetting? The fact that I liked your band. Playing shows every single day doesn’t make you the most popular band in the 30 mile radius you live it. In fact, you’re only hurting yourself. You know what’s even crazier than that? The fact that you won’t listen to anyone. You’re too busy trying to collect your gorgeous Alexander Hamilton that you don’t even listen to people that give a shit about how to try improve your fan base.

It’s pathetic. It’s lame. It’s ridiculous.

I’m happy to help most days, but days like this are exhausting and I’m already fucking exhausted. It makes me hate that I think that you can write a fucking song to save your life. In fact, if you couldn’t, life would be much easier.