So, I dunno-I mean, if someone were to ask me what I do…it wouldn’t be like I’d be rattling off about my profession. If you could even call it a profession. I mean, I work at a restaurant to make money so I can pay bills and support my family. But that’s not what I do. I may do it to make a living, but the other stuff…I mean, I cook, I write books and bloggage, I photograph stuff, I make music-all that shit is what I really do. All the stuff that makes me feel like a secretly important man, even if I’m really just another Notheastern Pennsylvania hayna with a blog and a camera and fucked up stories to tell.
I just place more weight in avocations than outright vocations. Because, there’s like a point when you do stuff out of a love for doing it and it’s more important than money to you. Even, like in my case, if you don’t do it that well and should probably stop in the name of good taste.
I mean, imagine that-doing something for the fuck of it and not because it’s going to get you paid. It even becomes a thing where when there’s money involved it just kind of cheapens things. Maybe I’m fucked up or something, but I’ve always felt like the most important creative expression comes from amateur efforts, rather than some kind of refined professionalism.
Given, motherfuckers need to eat and there’s a wealth of awesome stuff that has been created by people who do it for a living. We live in a world where you can’t just completely divest art or like I said, creative expression, of it’s commercial potential or pricetag. It’s impossible, even going well beyond the tired “sell out” debate. Everything, every last thing on Earth and every aspect of everything anyone does, is potentially, or outright, commodified at this stage. Seriously. Whatever you do, whatever activity, desire or creative passion you might have has it’s place in the market. And sadly, so many people these days are satiated by going out and purchasing such things to experience them vicariously instead of tapping their own endless reserves.
So it’s not to say that shit only counts if you’re making a bankroll off of it. Not at all. As I said before, for me it’s more that the opposite is true.
With that said I figured I’d leave ya’s with this song. I don’t, you know, always listen to hip hop-kind of rarely, in fact, but occasionally I do and sometimes I even find it inspiring. Like this guy, P.O.S.. I just like his stuff, and not only because he name drops Fugazi in one of his songs, and not just because he was in some hardcore punk bands.
One of my favorite songs of 2012 (and don’t tell anyone I’m admitting to this) was “Let ‘em Come” by Scroobius Pip-who I kind of think is a fucking genius, and who’s lyrical skills evidence the fact that the British fucking invented the goddam English language. At any rate, P.O.S. was on that song-him, Sage Francis and Scroobius Pip. So I checked out some of his stuff, and I really like it. Sage Francis is pretty cool I guess, though I’m not totally nutso over his stuff really. Anyway, I was thinking about writing this post tonight about just doing creative stuff, and I remembered this song. Without further adieu (this means I’ll shut the fuck up now), here it is: