You don't get a second chance to leave a first impression...
True. But you do get a second chance to screw up your first impression.
Adrian is one of my best friends and the drummer of Oh Girl. Back in 2009, we saw a band at the Viper Room in Hollywood, and they were amazing (I'm leaving the band unnamed for reasons you'll soon see). The songs were good, the energy was good, the vibe was good, the banter was good... they nailed their set to the wall and had everyone in the crowd eating out of the palm of their hand... Amazing first impression for Adrian (I had seen the band once before).
A couple months ago, Adrian came across this same band at a festival somewhere in the middle of the US. And he texted me asking, "What the heck happened? They sucked!" Amazing first impression completely nullified by a lackluster second impression. A potential lifelong fan had been delegated to a passerby wondering what happened...
Yes. First impressions are important. But the second impression is just as important. And the third, fourth, fifth... You have to make sure you're always leaving a lasting impression and earning trust and changing lives and making fans get goosebumps. If you're not, you might be leaving a "final impression"... and losing fans at the same time...
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
180...
A change in course from what you were doing to the complete opposite...
There have been moments in my life that can be characterized as "180 degree turn" moments...
September 2002
November 2006
September 2008
January 2009
July 2009
March 2011
May 2011
It's an interesting exercise in self-assessment to look back so candidly at your own life. Fantomas is the perfect soundtrack for such a retrospective examination. Lots of 180 degree turns, thematically, instrumentally, vocally...
This blog does not come out of left field. It is my 180th post...
Time to throw out a desk, play some guitar, and, hopefully, watch a documentary on intelligent design...
Good night...
There have been moments in my life that can be characterized as "180 degree turn" moments...
September 2002
November 2006
September 2008
January 2009
July 2009
March 2011
May 2011
It's an interesting exercise in self-assessment to look back so candidly at your own life. Fantomas is the perfect soundtrack for such a retrospective examination. Lots of 180 degree turns, thematically, instrumentally, vocally...
This blog does not come out of left field. It is my 180th post...
Time to throw out a desk, play some guitar, and, hopefully, watch a documentary on intelligent design...
Good night...
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Why Baseball? Why not Football...?
The fam and I were at Rachel's parents' house for dinner tonight, and Rachel's mom asked me if I wanted baseball (Angels at Rangers) or football (preseason Saints at Raiders) on the television. I thought quickly, didn't really have a preference, but responded with "Baseball's fine."
A couple different things...
Baseball was my Malcolm Gladwell Blink choice. In case you haven't read the book, Blink talks about how your first instinctual decision is more than likely your true preference and is therefore the "correct" decision. The book also delves into being more aware of your "blink decision making process" and also the notion that you can develop it, nourish it, help it evolve into a lean, mean, correct decision-making machine. But I digress...
So... baseball was my Malcolm Gladwell Blink choice. And as I analyzed the choice, I came to the following conclusions.
1. I didn't choose baseball because I enjoy it more. If anything, I enjoy football way more than baseball. Baseball on TV has essentially been the same since the 1960s. Football television broadcasts have evolved tremendously: telestrator, sideline commentary, mics on coaches, mics on players, enhanced instant replay, sky cams that follow the action... Football is a better television product.
2. I didn't choose baseball because I wanted to watch the local team. I'm a Dodger fan, through and through. I'd much rather watch a game in Chavez Ravine than down the street from Disneyland. And blue's a better color on me than red...
3. I didn't choose baseball because of the star power. Jared Weaver? Josh Hamilton? Other players that I don't know or care about? Nope... not the reason. If anything I would have rather watched the third string Saints quarterback trying to impress the coaches so he wouldn't have to plunge any further down the depth chart...
So why did I choose baseball? I'm more of a fan of football, baseball isn't as interesting, more interesting players are on the football field...
And then it dawned on me...
I chose baseball because the game counted.
The Angels are two games back of the Rangers (now three because they lost. hehehe). There are less than 35 games left in the season. The playoff picture is beginning to truly crystallize. The game matters, the players will be giving their all, the winner will be psyched, the loser will have a long night...
And the football game is just a preseason jaunt, who will get cut, are we in regular season shape, let's pull the starters so they can rest, let's see how the draft pick is developing, let's pan to the crowd and see how many Saints fans are in the Oakland Coliseum... womp womp womp...
It's more fun when it counts. Just like shows are more fun than rehearsal. Just like the playoffs are more fun than the 12th game of the season. Just like the customer service call with the pissed off patron is more fun than reading the training manual...
Life is more fun when it counts. Which is interesting because it counts everyday. But sometimes we somehow convince ourselves that it's only the preseason...
A couple different things...
Baseball was my Malcolm Gladwell Blink choice. In case you haven't read the book, Blink talks about how your first instinctual decision is more than likely your true preference and is therefore the "correct" decision. The book also delves into being more aware of your "blink decision making process" and also the notion that you can develop it, nourish it, help it evolve into a lean, mean, correct decision-making machine. But I digress...
So... baseball was my Malcolm Gladwell Blink choice. And as I analyzed the choice, I came to the following conclusions.
1. I didn't choose baseball because I enjoy it more. If anything, I enjoy football way more than baseball. Baseball on TV has essentially been the same since the 1960s. Football television broadcasts have evolved tremendously: telestrator, sideline commentary, mics on coaches, mics on players, enhanced instant replay, sky cams that follow the action... Football is a better television product.
2. I didn't choose baseball because I wanted to watch the local team. I'm a Dodger fan, through and through. I'd much rather watch a game in Chavez Ravine than down the street from Disneyland. And blue's a better color on me than red...
3. I didn't choose baseball because of the star power. Jared Weaver? Josh Hamilton? Other players that I don't know or care about? Nope... not the reason. If anything I would have rather watched the third string Saints quarterback trying to impress the coaches so he wouldn't have to plunge any further down the depth chart...
So why did I choose baseball? I'm more of a fan of football, baseball isn't as interesting, more interesting players are on the football field...
And then it dawned on me...
I chose baseball because the game counted.
The Angels are two games back of the Rangers (now three because they lost. hehehe). There are less than 35 games left in the season. The playoff picture is beginning to truly crystallize. The game matters, the players will be giving their all, the winner will be psyched, the loser will have a long night...
And the football game is just a preseason jaunt, who will get cut, are we in regular season shape, let's pull the starters so they can rest, let's see how the draft pick is developing, let's pan to the crowd and see how many Saints fans are in the Oakland Coliseum... womp womp womp...
It's more fun when it counts. Just like shows are more fun than rehearsal. Just like the playoffs are more fun than the 12th game of the season. Just like the customer service call with the pissed off patron is more fun than reading the training manual...
Life is more fun when it counts. Which is interesting because it counts everyday. But sometimes we somehow convince ourselves that it's only the preseason...
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Making It...
I used to want to be a rock star.
Be in a rock band and record music and play shows and start buzz and create groundswell and get fans and play more shows and open for huge bands and capture their fans and record more music and release through an indie and then capture the attention of the majors and sign with one and get a huge bonus and record a major label debut and tour the country and go platinum and win a grammy and be a rock star...
Now I'm older and wiser and still want to be a rock star...
But now "making it" as a rock star has a different meaning.
Write music and record it and play shows and connect with fans and give music away for free and work with artists to create a unique and authentic and one-of-a-kind crowd experience for every show and connect with fans and tell stories and play shows and record more music and give it away for free and play shows and maybe some day have 1000 true fans and treat each and every one of them with respect and love and ask them to pay money for what I've created but only because I assume responsibility for providing them with something from the heart, from my heart, from my heart to theirs, and if I don't live up that responsibility, I lose their fandom so it's up to me to earn it with each and every song written and each and every show played and each and every chord strummed so that I can make a living, a true 9-5 every day, 60 grand a year living playing music and being an entertainer.
That's attainable. Hard work but attainable. And the right steps need to be taken now. And at a certain point there can no longer be a plan B. Otherwise, I'll be 75 and a bitter, bitter old man with the faintest memory of a dream that burned out a long time ago...
Put in the work and pay the dues and do what you know you can, Glynn...
Be in a rock band and record music and play shows and start buzz and create groundswell and get fans and play more shows and open for huge bands and capture their fans and record more music and release through an indie and then capture the attention of the majors and sign with one and get a huge bonus and record a major label debut and tour the country and go platinum and win a grammy and be a rock star...
Now I'm older and wiser and still want to be a rock star...
But now "making it" as a rock star has a different meaning.
Write music and record it and play shows and connect with fans and give music away for free and work with artists to create a unique and authentic and one-of-a-kind crowd experience for every show and connect with fans and tell stories and play shows and record more music and give it away for free and play shows and maybe some day have 1000 true fans and treat each and every one of them with respect and love and ask them to pay money for what I've created but only because I assume responsibility for providing them with something from the heart, from my heart, from my heart to theirs, and if I don't live up that responsibility, I lose their fandom so it's up to me to earn it with each and every song written and each and every show played and each and every chord strummed so that I can make a living, a true 9-5 every day, 60 grand a year living playing music and being an entertainer.
That's attainable. Hard work but attainable. And the right steps need to be taken now. And at a certain point there can no longer be a plan B. Otherwise, I'll be 75 and a bitter, bitter old man with the faintest memory of a dream that burned out a long time ago...
Put in the work and pay the dues and do what you know you can, Glynn...
Friday, August 26, 2011
Guitar Shopping- First Time Actually Looking
I got out of work early today. 4pm instead of 5pm. So I went down to every musician's favorite place (note the sarcasm)... Guitar Center. I was in the mood to play some acoustics.
I sat down with an Ibanez Acoustic Electric for a little bit. My first three guitars were from Ibanez, so I felt like going back to my roots. Nothing special.
Picked up a used Martin that was pretty rad. Then migrated to the "more expensive" section and tried out a couple more Martins. Pretty cool. Still couldn't really feel anything that would justify an $800 to $1200 investment.
Then I played a couple Taylors. The Taylor 110ce felt very good. Nice action, no fret buzz, good weight. Yes, I've been playing guitar for almost 11 years, but I still don't know exactly what I like in a guitar. I just know when it feels good. After picking up the various Taylors, I can honestly say that I felt a noticeable difference and that I would feel comfortable investing in one of their guitars. But I can also say that I'm pretty fickle and what felt good today might feel "meh" tomorrow.
It was fun to go guitar shopping, though. I haven't made a "real" guitar purchase in almost 10 years, so I feel like the next guitar purchase I make should be a special one... one with which I take my time.
I sat down with an Ibanez Acoustic Electric for a little bit. My first three guitars were from Ibanez, so I felt like going back to my roots. Nothing special.
Picked up a used Martin that was pretty rad. Then migrated to the "more expensive" section and tried out a couple more Martins. Pretty cool. Still couldn't really feel anything that would justify an $800 to $1200 investment.
Then I played a couple Taylors. The Taylor 110ce felt very good. Nice action, no fret buzz, good weight. Yes, I've been playing guitar for almost 11 years, but I still don't know exactly what I like in a guitar. I just know when it feels good. After picking up the various Taylors, I can honestly say that I felt a noticeable difference and that I would feel comfortable investing in one of their guitars. But I can also say that I'm pretty fickle and what felt good today might feel "meh" tomorrow.
It was fun to go guitar shopping, though. I haven't made a "real" guitar purchase in almost 10 years, so I feel like the next guitar purchase I make should be a special one... one with which I take my time.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Even the mundane...
... can have meaning.
I walked to go get the mail today. Probably about 300 yards. Through the long driveway that leads in and out of our apartment complex. There was a cloud in the sky that reminded me of the "First Born Death Plague" in The Ten Commandments. Headlights from the Southbound 405 were reflecting off of a streetlight that had gone out above the complex garages. I sang a song idea into my iPhone recorder on the way back. There was a Trader Joe's insert in the mail. And Rachel's paycheck stub. And the Pennysaver. And our utilities bill. And a credit card offer from Capital One (What's in your wallet?)...
And I remember all of these details because...
I have no idea. Just another mundane Thursday night after a typical Thursday day that consisted of waking up and dropping Chase off at Kindercare and going to work and driving home and greeting Rachel and Chase when they got home and feeding Chase dinner (mac and cheese) and going for a run with Chase in the jogging stroller that Rachel got me for Father's Day and coming home and delaying my shower to coincide with Chase's sleep routine and then getting Pho for Rachel and Alerto's for me then watching Project Runway while reading Competitor and Triathlete magazine then watching other meaningless TV shows and coming upstairs to get ready for bed and realizing Kathy Griffin tickets are really expensive and seeing that movie times won't fit in our babysitter schedule on Saturday (thanks, Gretchen!!) then coming to the computer and starting this blog post...
Nothing special. Just another mundane Thursday.
But that's not true. It's not just another mundane Thursday. Because I choose to not label it mundane. Because a lot of rad stuff happened today if I just push aside all the boring stuff and get down to the meat and bones and sinew and organs of it all.
Mundane happens because we let it happen. For a day to be truly mundane, you would have to make a lot of little decisions (or not make them)...
What does it mean? Not really sure. But I know that it isn't mundane...
I don't know why, but I feel like this blog is a good example of how I should be writing the lyrical content for my songs...
I walked to go get the mail today. Probably about 300 yards. Through the long driveway that leads in and out of our apartment complex. There was a cloud in the sky that reminded me of the "First Born Death Plague" in The Ten Commandments. Headlights from the Southbound 405 were reflecting off of a streetlight that had gone out above the complex garages. I sang a song idea into my iPhone recorder on the way back. There was a Trader Joe's insert in the mail. And Rachel's paycheck stub. And the Pennysaver. And our utilities bill. And a credit card offer from Capital One (What's in your wallet?)...
And I remember all of these details because...
I have no idea. Just another mundane Thursday night after a typical Thursday day that consisted of waking up and dropping Chase off at Kindercare and going to work and driving home and greeting Rachel and Chase when they got home and feeding Chase dinner (mac and cheese) and going for a run with Chase in the jogging stroller that Rachel got me for Father's Day and coming home and delaying my shower to coincide with Chase's sleep routine and then getting Pho for Rachel and Alerto's for me then watching Project Runway while reading Competitor and Triathlete magazine then watching other meaningless TV shows and coming upstairs to get ready for bed and realizing Kathy Griffin tickets are really expensive and seeing that movie times won't fit in our babysitter schedule on Saturday (thanks, Gretchen!!) then coming to the computer and starting this blog post...
Nothing special. Just another mundane Thursday.
But that's not true. It's not just another mundane Thursday. Because I choose to not label it mundane. Because a lot of rad stuff happened today if I just push aside all the boring stuff and get down to the meat and bones and sinew and organs of it all.
Mundane happens because we let it happen. For a day to be truly mundane, you would have to make a lot of little decisions (or not make them)...
What does it mean? Not really sure. But I know that it isn't mundane...
I don't know why, but I feel like this blog is a good example of how I should be writing the lyrical content for my songs...
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Stream of consciousness
... is a bitch please thank you know that it was the best thing you ever had to go and do such a stupid thing mother fucker looks just like the thing of a whatchamacallit chocolate bar no this bar oh good cuz i'm awful thirsty like your shoes dog fighting is illegal kind of like look at me now karmin covers and chris brown ain't got nothing on that white chick but busta straight killed it killing it in orlando bloom is such a woman in his movies better off sticking to being an elf keebler cookies are the best but i haven't had one in a long time ago in a galaxy far far away...
Not too bad.
I can do better, though...
Not too bad.
I can do better, though...
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Routines...
... have their pros and cons.
Training routines help you achieve a fitness goal by breaking the physical journey into smaller chunks that are more easily completed.
Daily office routines help you finish your work and mark items off your to do list.
Routines can also make you complacent. You get used to the monotony of a routine, and it can swallow you up or make you feel comfortable enough to cruise or keep you from doing the actual hard work that the routine was initially created to help you do...
I've been in a blogging routine the last couple days. Blog when you get on the computer at night, about running, about music, about family, about what you've learned, about success, about failure. I like this blogging routine. But I can see how it would make me complacent.
I'm starting to think about blogging topics throughout the day. "I saw 'subprime' on a billboard, which made me think about Sublime, and wouldn't you know it, I'm seeing 311 and Sublime tonight!" or "I almost got hit by a car today. That would be an interesting story." And it's fun to think about blogging topics and have that be a part of the routine, except I'm realizing that I prefer spontaneity and not being so planned and not falling into a routine.
I've been on a pretty consistent running routine for the last couple months. Except now I'm starting to plateau and there's only so much you can do before your body gets used to the rigors of running and you have to switch it up in order to throw your body for a loop and force it to adapt and maximize your physical results....
On another note, I guess P-Rest of your Life- X isn't as marketable...
But yeah... routines. Can be boring. Can be exhilarating. Can help. Can hurt.
Funny how almost everything has two sides... (that will be a good topic for a blog... but don't make it so routine, Glynn...)
Training routines help you achieve a fitness goal by breaking the physical journey into smaller chunks that are more easily completed.
Daily office routines help you finish your work and mark items off your to do list.
Routines can also make you complacent. You get used to the monotony of a routine, and it can swallow you up or make you feel comfortable enough to cruise or keep you from doing the actual hard work that the routine was initially created to help you do...
I've been in a blogging routine the last couple days. Blog when you get on the computer at night, about running, about music, about family, about what you've learned, about success, about failure. I like this blogging routine. But I can see how it would make me complacent.
I'm starting to think about blogging topics throughout the day. "I saw 'subprime' on a billboard, which made me think about Sublime, and wouldn't you know it, I'm seeing 311 and Sublime tonight!" or "I almost got hit by a car today. That would be an interesting story." And it's fun to think about blogging topics and have that be a part of the routine, except I'm realizing that I prefer spontaneity and not being so planned and not falling into a routine.
I've been on a pretty consistent running routine for the last couple months. Except now I'm starting to plateau and there's only so much you can do before your body gets used to the rigors of running and you have to switch it up in order to throw your body for a loop and force it to adapt and maximize your physical results....
On another note, I guess P-Rest of your Life- X isn't as marketable...
But yeah... routines. Can be boring. Can be exhilarating. Can help. Can hurt.
Funny how almost everything has two sides... (that will be a good topic for a blog... but don't make it so routine, Glynn...)
Monday, August 22, 2011
It's all mental...
A wise man recently said to me, "It's all mental."
Mind over matter. If you think you can, you have a fighting chance. If you think you can't, might as well not even try.
I ran today. Faster than I expected or planned. 8:50 a mile for 4.5 miles. 10 seconds faster than my planned pace for the 10K I'll be running next month.
It hurt. A lot. There were moments when I felt like I couldn't keep up the pace. I went out at 8:39 for the first mile, then tapered to 9:07 and 9:08 for miles 2 and 3. But then for the 4th mile, when I should have slowed down more, when I was more fatigued and my lungs were burning and my legs were filling with lactic acid and I should have continued to slow... I ran an 8:16 mile. Which for me is smoking fast...
"It's all mental."
I played a trick on myself. I knew I was supposed to be going more slowly. But I told myself that I was going to run an 8:30 mile. No. Wait. It wasn't even that I told myself I was going to do it. I told myself I could do it. It was possible. Yes, it would hurt. Yes, it would hurt. Yes, it would hurt. But I could do it. I knew that if I convinced myself I could do it, I was halfway home. I just needed to believe that I could do it.
"It's all mental."
And I didn't run an 8:30 mile. I ran an 8:16 mile.
I wonder what else I can convince myself is possible...
Mind over matter. If you think you can, you have a fighting chance. If you think you can't, might as well not even try.
I ran today. Faster than I expected or planned. 8:50 a mile for 4.5 miles. 10 seconds faster than my planned pace for the 10K I'll be running next month.
It hurt. A lot. There were moments when I felt like I couldn't keep up the pace. I went out at 8:39 for the first mile, then tapered to 9:07 and 9:08 for miles 2 and 3. But then for the 4th mile, when I should have slowed down more, when I was more fatigued and my lungs were burning and my legs were filling with lactic acid and I should have continued to slow... I ran an 8:16 mile. Which for me is smoking fast...
"It's all mental."
I played a trick on myself. I knew I was supposed to be going more slowly. But I told myself that I was going to run an 8:30 mile. No. Wait. It wasn't even that I told myself I was going to do it. I told myself I could do it. It was possible. Yes, it would hurt. Yes, it would hurt. Yes, it would hurt. But I could do it. I knew that if I convinced myself I could do it, I was halfway home. I just needed to believe that I could do it.
"It's all mental."
And I didn't run an 8:30 mile. I ran an 8:16 mile.
I wonder what else I can convince myself is possible...
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Strengths and Weaknesses
We all have them: strengths and weaknesses. I have a good sense of humor. I procrastinate. I'm articulate. I'm selfish. And plenty of other pros and cons, sweet and sour details, peaks and valleys...
All we can hope for is to be self-aware and play to our strengths and work on our weaknesses and surround ourselves with friends that complement us and help us through our weak points and appreciate our good points.
My wife complements me. My best friends complement me. And I'm hopefully taking steps towards bettering myself and becoming a more well-rounded person.
And now for the veiled, generalized, yet supremely poignant in my own eyes blog moment...
You can't do it by yourself. And even if you could, it wouldn't be as fulfilling. But, in all honesty, you can't do it by yourself... get to work, Glynn...
All we can hope for is to be self-aware and play to our strengths and work on our weaknesses and surround ourselves with friends that complement us and help us through our weak points and appreciate our good points.
My wife complements me. My best friends complement me. And I'm hopefully taking steps towards bettering myself and becoming a more well-rounded person.
And now for the veiled, generalized, yet supremely poignant in my own eyes blog moment...
You can't do it by yourself. And even if you could, it wouldn't be as fulfilling. But, in all honesty, you can't do it by yourself... get to work, Glynn...
Friday, August 19, 2011
The cliche...
... is easier to believe than the truth.
Montages in movies are a cliche. They're not the truth. The passage of time is never more blatantly misrepresented than in a movie montage... Really...? The protagonist betters herself that quickly...? Right...
The truth is there are no movie montages but in order to feed the narrative device of exposition in an expedient and proficient manner, the montage is employed.
Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd... pretention level red. Abort blog... abort blog...
Montages in movies are a cliche. They're not the truth. The passage of time is never more blatantly misrepresented than in a movie montage... Really...? The protagonist betters herself that quickly...? Right...
The truth is there are no movie montages but in order to feed the narrative device of exposition in an expedient and proficient manner, the montage is employed.
Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd... pretention level red. Abort blog... abort blog...
Thursday, August 18, 2011
100...
Goal: 100 true fans.
TRUE fans.
People that will come to the show and watch and interact and sing along and clamor for the setlist and wait outside the stage door. Except it will be a coffee shop, so there will be no stage door. But they'll want to show up early to have a cup of joe and chat about life and love and pain and joy and the mundane and the amazing.
There are some constraints...
1. Fans are NOT friends. Your wife, your mom, your son, your best friend, your co-workers, your acquaintances... they're not fans. They can love your stuff, but they're not fans because they're biased. Unless they would love your stuff regardless of the fact that it came from you... then they're fans. But they're also family and friends, which means that as fans, they're afforded special privileges. Which, again, feeds into their bias. They're like "sponsored" folk. People don't normally honestly evaluate that which has strings attached...
2. Fans are NOT fleeting. A fan is someone that is there because you've earned their trust and the right to monopolize their attention. A fan does not latch on to you because you are a trend. A fan is not fairweather. A fan should be appeased and placed first.
3. Fans mean nothing... if you're not being true to yourself. If you're being cheap, relying on gimmicks, shunning the paying of dues and the building of something authentic... your fans will stick like painter's tape.
4. In all reality, 100 is not that difficult... and supremely difficult. When you cut out friends and family... when you need to convert 100 strangers through your craft... when you need to cut through the noise and reach down into someone's being and change the path of their life... 100 times... it won't be easy. It shouldn't be easy. If it was easy, everyone would do it.
5. Fans mean everything. They're your lifeblood. They're an extension of yourself. You are your fans. And in that regard, even though friends can't be fans... fans can most definitely be friends...
6. 100 begins with 1...
It started a long time ago... and it never ends... get to work, Glynn.
TRUE fans.
People that will come to the show and watch and interact and sing along and clamor for the setlist and wait outside the stage door. Except it will be a coffee shop, so there will be no stage door. But they'll want to show up early to have a cup of joe and chat about life and love and pain and joy and the mundane and the amazing.
There are some constraints...
1. Fans are NOT friends. Your wife, your mom, your son, your best friend, your co-workers, your acquaintances... they're not fans. They can love your stuff, but they're not fans because they're biased. Unless they would love your stuff regardless of the fact that it came from you... then they're fans. But they're also family and friends, which means that as fans, they're afforded special privileges. Which, again, feeds into their bias. They're like "sponsored" folk. People don't normally honestly evaluate that which has strings attached...
2. Fans are NOT fleeting. A fan is someone that is there because you've earned their trust and the right to monopolize their attention. A fan does not latch on to you because you are a trend. A fan is not fairweather. A fan should be appeased and placed first.
3. Fans mean nothing... if you're not being true to yourself. If you're being cheap, relying on gimmicks, shunning the paying of dues and the building of something authentic... your fans will stick like painter's tape.
4. In all reality, 100 is not that difficult... and supremely difficult. When you cut out friends and family... when you need to convert 100 strangers through your craft... when you need to cut through the noise and reach down into someone's being and change the path of their life... 100 times... it won't be easy. It shouldn't be easy. If it was easy, everyone would do it.
5. Fans mean everything. They're your lifeblood. They're an extension of yourself. You are your fans. And in that regard, even though friends can't be fans... fans can most definitely be friends...
6. 100 begins with 1...
It started a long time ago... and it never ends... get to work, Glynn.
Say It Ain't So...
I saw Weezer last October. And I screamed along to every song... except for this one. When they started this one, I was like an altar boy in church on Sunday... silent...
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The bar...
... should not be the goal.
"Above the bar" should be the goal. "Way above the bar" should be the goal. "So high that you have to squint to see the bar" should be the goal.
If you reach "the bar" and it was easy..., you just cheated yourself out of being remarkable, which is one step away from "might as well have not reached the bar".
Yes, this is me trying to push myself. Yes, this is me hoping that I don't settle for "good enough". Yes, this will take weeks and months and years of training and reminders and effort and slip-ups. And, yes... it feels good to acknowledge the fact that I'm hoping to fly past the bar and straight into outer space...
"Above the bar" should be the goal. "Way above the bar" should be the goal. "So high that you have to squint to see the bar" should be the goal.
If you reach "the bar" and it was easy..., you just cheated yourself out of being remarkable, which is one step away from "might as well have not reached the bar".
Yes, this is me trying to push myself. Yes, this is me hoping that I don't settle for "good enough". Yes, this will take weeks and months and years of training and reminders and effort and slip-ups. And, yes... it feels good to acknowledge the fact that I'm hoping to fly past the bar and straight into outer space...
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Happening overnight...
... never happens.
It takes time and effort and blood and sweat and falling down and getting up and running slowly while completely out of breath for such a short amount of time that you feel useless and barely being able to finger a barre chord and writing horrible horrible horrible songs and effort and concentration and focus and never giving up and giving up a little bit and sacrifice and re-prioritizing and planning and unplanning and forgetting to be on schedule and rigorously sticking to a routine and ingraining muscle memory and learning and unlearning and flexibility and agility and time and effort and time and blood and effort and tears and reaching goals and realizing your goal is the wrong one and dreaming big and aiming high and missing and waking up to reality and thick skin and tears and pain and the love and support of your family and patience and time and effort and humility and luck and time and effort and...
If it actually happens overnight... it will be gone even more quickly...
It takes time and effort and blood and sweat and falling down and getting up and running slowly while completely out of breath for such a short amount of time that you feel useless and barely being able to finger a barre chord and writing horrible horrible horrible songs and effort and concentration and focus and never giving up and giving up a little bit and sacrifice and re-prioritizing and planning and unplanning and forgetting to be on schedule and rigorously sticking to a routine and ingraining muscle memory and learning and unlearning and flexibility and agility and time and effort and time and blood and effort and tears and reaching goals and realizing your goal is the wrong one and dreaming big and aiming high and missing and waking up to reality and thick skin and tears and pain and the love and support of your family and patience and time and effort and humility and luck and time and effort and...
If it actually happens overnight... it will be gone even more quickly...
Monday, August 15, 2011
The anticipation...
... is greater than the acquisition (or the execution).
I may or may not have blogged about this already...
Catalogs are rad. I am addicted to leafing through them and picturing how amazingly awesome it would be to have a vinyl player that converts vinyls to mp3s or a smaller mixer for live acoustic shows that doubles as a recording mixer straight to Firepod straight to laptop or a credit card reader app that would allow me to capture sales of merchandise or another guitar or another pair of running shoes or another book about triathlons or a swim-specific wetsuit or a new car or a computer desk or... (ad infinitum... ad nauseum...)
As Conor Oberst once said:
My mind races with all my longings
But can't keep up with what I've got
And it's not just about possessions. Ideas and plans and goals, too. Do I actually want to do a triathlon or do I just like the planning? Is it about finishing or is it about planning to finish? Am I really going to pursue an acoustic project that incorporates improv and live artists or is it just about what a great idea it is?
It's all just anticipation until you actually get that whammy pedal or compressor or microkorg... and have no idea how to utilize it... (off to the collecting dust pile)...
I'ts all just anticipation until you actually start training for that half-marathon.. and burn out after a couple months... (off to the "hey, weren't you...?" pile)...
Stop getting off on the anticipation, Glynn.
Work on the acquisition. Work on the execution. And remember that it's not about a moment in time when everything is finished. It's about staying hungry, staying focused, checking things off the to-do list, and building a more extensive to-do list to work on tomorrow...
I may or may not have blogged about this already...
Catalogs are rad. I am addicted to leafing through them and picturing how amazingly awesome it would be to have a vinyl player that converts vinyls to mp3s or a smaller mixer for live acoustic shows that doubles as a recording mixer straight to Firepod straight to laptop or a credit card reader app that would allow me to capture sales of merchandise or another guitar or another pair of running shoes or another book about triathlons or a swim-specific wetsuit or a new car or a computer desk or... (ad infinitum... ad nauseum...)
As Conor Oberst once said:
My mind races with all my longings
But can't keep up with what I've got
And it's not just about possessions. Ideas and plans and goals, too. Do I actually want to do a triathlon or do I just like the planning? Is it about finishing or is it about planning to finish? Am I really going to pursue an acoustic project that incorporates improv and live artists or is it just about what a great idea it is?
It's all just anticipation until you actually get that whammy pedal or compressor or microkorg... and have no idea how to utilize it... (off to the collecting dust pile)...
I'ts all just anticipation until you actually start training for that half-marathon.. and burn out after a couple months... (off to the "hey, weren't you...?" pile)...
Stop getting off on the anticipation, Glynn.
Work on the acquisition. Work on the execution. And remember that it's not about a moment in time when everything is finished. It's about staying hungry, staying focused, checking things off the to-do list, and building a more extensive to-do list to work on tomorrow...
Sunday, August 14, 2011
It's easy to use gimmicks...
... to get noticed. To generate cheap traffic. To sucker people into paying attention.
A lot harder to be genuine, authentic, from the heart, truthful, honest, hard working, dues paying, actually good enough to be worth people's time and attention and affection (or apathy)...
Do you want to be a gimmick? Or do you want to be an artist? Or, like the White Stripes... both?
A lot harder to be genuine, authentic, from the heart, truthful, honest, hard working, dues paying, actually good enough to be worth people's time and attention and affection (or apathy)...
Do you want to be a gimmick? Or do you want to be an artist? Or, like the White Stripes... both?
Friday, August 12, 2011
So much to be passionate about...
Rachel. Chase. Running. Oh Girl. Guitar. Acoustic. Battles. Seinfeld. Amy Winehouse. Tribe Called Quest. Finishing... The journey. Getting pulled in lots of different directions. I'd forgotten what this was supposed to be about. It's for me. Not anyone else. Not for approval (unless it's mine). Just for me. Me, me, me. Selfish. Read if you want to. Finish if you can stomach the self-aggrandizing completely selfish meanderings of a self-involved individualistic narcissist.
Mind explosion. Mind blank. Try to control it and find it escape your grasp. Let it roam freely and watch it return with even stronger fervor...
What? Is this what it's come to? Is this the result of being too overstimulated? 3 second sound bites? A lack of vision? An intense craving for now now now now now not later now?
What do you want to focus on? What do you need to focus on? What is more important than anything else in the world? What leads to the attainment of the maintenance of the pedestal position of that importance?
Why does it need to be so well organized? What is the message? Is having no message a message?
Who do you want to be? What do you want to do? Will who you are and what you do be connected?
Socratic method...
Who am I?
Husband, father, musician, athlete, employee...
You can make a difference, but it starts with remembering to make a difference.
There are moments I remember from the day. Moments that stick to my brain. Some worth remembering, most worth forgetting. Is anything truly worth forgetting? Should we forget anything? Why do we remember? How do we remember?
If it's not worth an opinion, it's not worth doing.
If it's not worth an opinion, it's not worth doing.
Mind explosion. Mind blank. Try to control it and find it escape your grasp. Let it roam freely and watch it return with even stronger fervor...
What? Is this what it's come to? Is this the result of being too overstimulated? 3 second sound bites? A lack of vision? An intense craving for now now now now now not later now?
What do you want to focus on? What do you need to focus on? What is more important than anything else in the world? What leads to the attainment of the maintenance of the pedestal position of that importance?
Why does it need to be so well organized? What is the message? Is having no message a message?
Who do you want to be? What do you want to do? Will who you are and what you do be connected?
Socratic method...
Who am I?
Husband, father, musician, athlete, employee...
You can make a difference, but it starts with remembering to make a difference.
There are moments I remember from the day. Moments that stick to my brain. Some worth remembering, most worth forgetting. Is anything truly worth forgetting? Should we forget anything? Why do we remember? How do we remember?
If it's not worth an opinion, it's not worth doing.
If it's not worth an opinion, it's not worth doing.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
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