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.”