Grumpy Blogs about life, dreams and Work

An alternative rock band played their new song at an urban bookstore.  The song was driven by an angry rhythm of how wrong family can be even though the myth is beautiful. In realty, family often drowns us all.  The song exposed how a character named White, had a good life most of the year, except for one day, Xmas. Each Xmas he went home to play at the myth of family one more time. 

Maybe this year father White won’t be an assh*le,
Maybe  mom won’t be insane with her infomercial evanglacism
Maybe sister will cut the leash from her pig husband
Maybe brother will be out of jail, clean and sober

But, no.  They are all the same.
It doesn’t even snow anymore
We painted the sky with oil.

I’m dreading another White Christmas

The audience of alternative music fans loved it.  I understood why my producer friends signed the band to their record label.  I walked up to their table at the cafe later.  I started to introduce myself again, we’d all met before, but decided to just hover like a assistant. They talked of the band needing an audio visual geek to elevate their performance into an art show like Cirque De Sole’s, Delirium. I wanted the job, but it was difficult game of who knows who and melding of artistic vision.   I had an in with the producers, but the musicians had the final say.  I needed to get inside their space, see things like they did, prove I had the vision to compliment theirs and make a thing of alternative worth.  As they spoke, I realized I was not an artist. I was just a groupie geek with electronic gadgets.  I wasn’t going to get the job. 

The dream ended.