Your Muse likes it RAW

Creativity requires fuel.

The less refined the fuel – the better.

There’s nothing stimulating about sterility. Nothing thought-provoking about safety & consistency.

The muse craves the muck & grime of the world… the pain, sorrow, & all the grossness that we’re so prone to pretending does not exist.

The injustice, inequality, hatred, ugliness etc… it makes you think.

Makes you compare & contrast. Look at things in a new light & dimensionalize your life & everything in it.

7 or so years ago, I was gallivanting around New York City.

It was late – 2am or so – and I needed to catch a train to Brooklyn to the couch I’d been offered to sleep on.

It was me and another young white guy, standing on the subway platform. In my memory he was wearing a suit – though why he would be in a suit at 2am, I couldn’t tell ya.

I had a ukulele (I carried it everywhere & played constantly).

The subway pulled up, screeched to a halt, & my fellow commuter & I stepped through they sliding doors into what looked like an empty car…

Right into a wall of hot putrid stench. The smell of (unhealthy) human feces.

Immediately, we saw the source of the smell at the same time – an old black dude, clearly homeless and clearly not in his right mind.

He rocked back and forth in his seat, eyes wide & staring at nothing, chanting a mantra I’ll never forget…

“F*ck, nig*ah, f*ck…

Sh*t, nig*ah, sh*t…

Sh*t, nig*ah, f*ck…

F*ck, nig*ah, sh*t…”

…on and on and on.

The other white dude instantly changed cars, before the train even started moving.

I took a seat, watching the man. Basking in the smell of his illness & the sound of his incoherent, manic babbling…

& I started to play my ukulele.

Soft and sweet. A stark contrast to the scene I’d walked into… & together, this man and I created something strange & beautiful & terrible & sad & stinky & joyful all at the same time…

something no one else has ever created. Something no one else will ever experience.

Slowly, his babbling quieted. He stopped swaying. His eyes regained some focus… and a little smile formed on his lips.

We rode like that for 10 minutes or so. Me playing. Him listening. Training rattling. Robotic lady voice informing us of each stop. Doors sliding open occasionally to let in fresh air, and no more passengers.

He never spoke a word or acknowledged me. When we reached my stop, I stood and wished him a good night, and went my way.

Perhaps I could find some moral to this story for you… but I honestly don’t know if there is one.

The point is – it’s a story. A bizarre & experience I will always remember & find new nuances of meaning in for years to come…

& that I can now share with you…

Yet, my counterpart in the suit wanted NO part of the experience – thereby robbing himself of the thoughts, the feelings, & the memory that I now cherish.

Life isn’t supposed to smell like air freshener. There’s suffering all around, & it’s ours to share…

& even though it may be scary to face it head on… more often than not, it’s not going to hurt you.

It’ll only make you feel more ALIVE. More HUMAN. More CONNECTED.

It’ll make you think & truly FEEL in a way that no dramatic portrayal or documentary ever will…

& that true depth of FEELING will inspire you more than anything you’ll ever find in the safety of Normality.

Your Muse likes it RAW.

starving, spamming, or selling

where do you fall on the spectrum?

many creatives have a strong aversion to asking for attention…

let alone MONEY.

perhaps they feel that attaching a price to their art cheapens it…

that it CORRUPTS the SANCTITY of their creativity…

so they fall on the “STARVING” end of the spectrum — where they have to constantly compromise between having the TIME & RESOURCES to create…

or having the Quality of Life they truly desire.

I would give you an example, except all you have to do is look around the internet @ all the unknown artists who refuse to put out anything besides the art itself.

on the other hand, there are those artists who really subscribe to the “Hustle” mentality…

their ambition outweighs their artist’s guilt so they try their damndest to promote themselves and make their dreams a reality…

only they don’t know HOW to promote themselves.

so they end up on the “SPAMMING” end of the spectrum (bless their ambitious little hearts <3 )

you see a LOT of this on social media…

people who shamelessly (& unintelligibly) plug their stuff in the comments under posts without any attempt @ being relevant or starting a dialogue…

“COOL POST CHCK OUT MY NEW MIXTAPE”

ugh. total SPAM.

total turn off. makes anyone who reads it a little bit dumber.

Hustling is good.

Plugging your stuff is GREAT… but you have to find the happy medium between STARVING & SPAMMING.

see there’s a “sweet spot”, right on the middle of the spectrum that very few creatives arrive at naturally…

SELLING.

see, SELLING – in it’s highest form – is the Act of Awakening Someone To The Potential Of A New & Upgraded Reality That They Could Be Experiencing.

SELLING is Connecting The Dots.

SELLING is Empowering Someone to TAKE INTENTIONAL ACTION — which is one of the most Rewarding, Self-Affirming Experiences a Human Being can have.

& when you’re SELLING your music (or any type of art or creation for that matter) you are literally ALLOWING other human beings to become PARTICIPANTS in your Divine Process of Creativity.

SELLING is where it’s at, my friend.

the trick is to combine your STARVING artist’s Humility with your SPAMMING artist’s Hustle.

HUSTLE + HUMILITY
= ARTISTIC, AUTHENTIC SELLING.

boom.

remember: Your Art is PRICELESS & You Are Only A CHANNEL For It.

you’re pedaling GOD’S Goods, baby.

so how would you sell an album, if it was GOD’S album/book/painting?

you wouldn’t hide it away & feel guilty about asking for people to pay some attention to it…

you wouldn’t cheapen it by shoving it in people’s faces & hoping that someone pays attention (without caring whether people hate you for it)…

so the question is: what WOULD you do?

…got it?

good.

now go make it happen.