Out From the Watering Hole: Seasons in the Abyss and the Need for Reconditioning

samnealcover

By Andre Cornejo

It’s the day before the deadline, and only now do I realize how pathetically far behind

I am on all of this writing I was supposed to do over the last 30 days. No reviews,

no editorials, and I haven’t transcribed the interview. The last month and a half have

been a complete write off for me. A haze of amber ale, cheap cigarettes, and very little

sleep.

I’ve been using the recent separation from my former partner as an excuse to stay

as diluted as possible, for as long as possible. This self serving lie has left me 2000

words behind my goal, and with no money for food or pleasure. The packages of chicken

noodle soup will run out in the next day or two, and it will be time to start considering

the cat’s viable sources of nourishment. You’re first, Ms. Hubert.

On a far more gruelling note, I haven’t been able to contribute anything more than time to my band in far too long now. It’s making for some bleak realizations. I haven’t paid my share of the recording costs associated with our new album, which means that any potential release

date is constantly being pushed further back. I haven’t been putting any of my income

towards our van, and now beyond the maintenance and insurance costs that come with an ’89

Chevy, the threat of it being taken by the animals we call collectors has become quite

real. A European leg of the tour we’re currently booking has been weeded out, to shift

more cash towards saving the van before the grave robbers come take her corpse away from

Very important things that I’ve treated as insignificant to the point of impending

doom. Important things that I’ve ignored while I drink every dollar I earn at the local

watering hole. Something that gets even easier to do when you start to make friends with

the staff and regular patrons. I’m not a socialite by nature, but I am a thirsty man, and

it’s no problem to chat up everybody in the room when you have a belly full of your

favourite beverages. I suppose what I’m getting at here, is that I’ve been extremely

wasteful, which isn’t at all a quality of anybody with strong moral fibre. One can’t just

sit back and hope for things to work themselves out. Hope is a cheap crutch for people

without ambition. Hope won’t get us to Halifax, and it certainly won’t feed us or fill the

gas tank. It’s high time to put an end to this terrible Fat Elvis impersonation, and get

down to brass tacks.

So what will this change consist of? What would this new approach look like? A perfect

machine has no need for a self destruct sequence. That is inherently human, and is the

exhausting wave I’ve been riding for much more than it’s worth. A perfect machine is

programmed and calibrated only for success. There is absolutely no room for distraction,

or unnecessary burning of fuel. This will prove to be the hardest change I need to make.

My favourite barkeeps will start to wonder where I’ve gone, but the implementation of 80%

abstinence is absolutely vital to the success of this new game plan. If I don’t stick to the

plan, I won’t be going on tour anytime soon. I’m lucky in that I have some new tools to

help me through this. Band practice is becoming more frequent, and is the perfect

distraction from any disgusting thing that might make me want to take myself out for the

night. Our new bassist is putting me to shame with her work ethic, and it’s proving to

light a new fire under my ass to stay productive, regardless of the time of day or state

of mind. I’ve also got this trusty new (old) SMITH-CORONA 2200 Typewriter that my best

friend, roommate, and musical soul mate found for me on his way home from work. This is

a beautiful thing, as since I’ve moved here, I haven’t had a computer to write, edit,

draft, and email finished work from. It’s been a massive boost the past couple of days

knowing that I can pump out a few rough copies on this typewriter and then only have to

bother someone to use their computer for a couple of minutes, instead of five hours of

transcribing, editing, and emailing.

Anyways, I suppose this thing has run on for too long already, and I should make some kind of all encompassing point to make this passable as something of an editorial, and not just

some rambling self deprecating think piece. GET TO WORK. Make plans, and make haste.

Understand what needs to be done for you to accomplish the tasks at hand, and throw as

much gasoline as necessary on the flames of desire. Stay as sharp as a new buck knife,

and cut down everything preventing you from realizing the fruits of your labour.

A wise alien residing in the Dagoba System once said, “There is no try. Only do, or do not.”