I want one day to have a little girl. I want her to get a micro-loan from the Grameen Bank. She will purchase a goat. She will share this goat with the other little girls in her small, progressive, private school in Berkeley. And from this goat they will make a little money. With the money made, my little girl will invest in bigger things. She will choose a career that suits her. She will struggle; she will suffer. But she will overcome challenges and find a happiness that runs throughout her life. She will carry this happiness to her death. It is the age of women. The age of women coming into power and fundamentally changing art, science, politics, business and human relationships.
I give you a beautiful song about women written by men. Oh the ironies and the contradictions we face.
Animal Collective "My Girls"
with love for my little girl, and the little girl inside of me,
Anthony
ps - just to be clear, Abbey is not pregnant.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Trust Your Instincts
(This is a longer post. But you will be rewarded with music at the end.)
Abbey went with her mother to a big wedding expo last year. I stayed home. She walked around and looked at dresses and sampled cake from vendors. After wandering around the isles for around an hour, she found a seat to listen to the featured speakers.
The keynote speaker was an event planner, probably the most sought after event planner in San Francisco. He had planned events for SF MOMA, the San Francisco Symphony, major corporations, and the most expensive and elaborate private parties. Abbey knew him by name though she had never seen him. When Abbey relayed this to me, I immediately assumed he was born with a silver spoon, very comfortable around the wealthy given his own upper-class upbringing. But my assumptions about this man were all wrong.
In fact, he had grown up in rural New Mexico, in a working-class family that had trouble making ends meet. His father was a craft maker, possibly clocks, but I forget what exactly he made. This elite event planner talked about his childhood in New Mexico and his fascination with his father. He would sit in the basement studio and watch carefully as his father meticilously put together his crafts. He was amazed by his father's attention to detail. His father was not a wealthy man, by any means. But he put his passion into the details of his craft, knowing he would not be compensated in relation to the effort he gave.
The successful event planner, speaking at the wedding expo, talked about what he learned from his father. Mainly two things: his father's attention to detail and the love of the craft that was created.
As this young event planner started his career, first moving away from rural New Mexico to San Francisco, he never forgot his roots and passion for details. He also developed his own mantra: trust your instincts, deeply. Abbey relayed how when this event planner would meet with people planning an event, his first thought was colors. After discussing the event for a short time, the colors for the event would become clear to him. This was a visceral, instinctual reaction, choosing the colors after a short conversation. But this successful event planner learned to trust, immediately, the colors he had chosen for the event. He felt deeply that the first colors to come into his mind would be the correct colors for the event.
Abbey shared this story with me months ago, and it has had a pretty profound impact on me. Hearing this event planner's story about his father, the attention to detail and the colors has made me realize just how vital it is to trust your instincts.
For me this plays out mainly in my creative pursuits though it can certainly apply to business or any other human endeavor. For example, if I play a chord progression on the guitar and it sounds good, I've learned to lock it in. I trust my instincts. I feel it in my gut. I'm ready to defend this chord progression to my death. Well, not really, but I feel committed to it. I feel like I'm willing to face negative criticism.
I have also learned to trust my instincts when it comes to writing. If I feel it deeply and immediately, it usually means I go with it. I have no idea where the idea for naming my last show, "The Show!", came from. But once it popped into my head and my reaction was positive, I stuck with it. We had The Show! on Thursday, June 14th, and it went great. I don't know how much of a role the title played, but I feel good knowing I stuck to my instincts.
When my sister or other friends ask me about art, writing, or creativity generally, one of the first things I say is trust your instincts. If you feel it, go with it, stick to it, even if it may eventually lead to negative criticism.
For me, I feel it in my stomach, literally in my gut. The muscles in and around my stomach tighten, as if readying for battle. I am in tune with my body, and my body is telling me to stick to my guns. Even if it is just a glimmer of an idea, an irrational idea, at the very least, write it down.
When I say trust your instinct in this context, I'm talking about creative impulses. I'm talking about the first instinctual reaction to creative impulses. I'm not talking about trusting your gut all the time. For example, if you gut is telling you to end your life, don't do it. Seek help. Go to the hospital.
I'm not talking about all gut level responses. I'm talking about that fleeting, ever-so-vulnerable, first moment when you feel, instantaneously, that you have a good idea for a creative project or something to add to a creative project. I'm encouraging you with my whole soul to go after it like a wolf after meat. At the very least protect it, don't let it get stomped on by your own negative thoughts, negative thoughts that aren't fast enough to pummel the creative instinct before it is born. That creative instinct arrived, it is alive. Of course, your negative thinking will attempt to crush it, but over time you can develop strength and protect the impulse.
This doesn't mean that I tune out feedback. Quite the contrary. Feedback from other people is hugely important, and I am a firm believer in flexibility. It's fine to change and adapt. But make sure you lock in that first creative instinct. And (this part is HUGE) don't be afraid to follow it to its conclusion. Be smart, weigh the possible consequences, be aware of what might happen if you do follow your creative passions to their logical conclusions. But don't let all of this post-first-instinct mind chatter steer you away from your gut level response. TRUST IT, DEEPLY.
from the wild hollows of creative singe (following your instincts will sometimes hurt), with love for mothers and widows and wives-to-be and all artists everywhere regardless of where you fall on the gender spectrum,
Anthony
ps - I think Malcolm Gladwell may have written a book about this. But I haven't read it.
pps - here's a great song by The Donkeys:
"Excelsior Lady"
Abbey went with her mother to a big wedding expo last year. I stayed home. She walked around and looked at dresses and sampled cake from vendors. After wandering around the isles for around an hour, she found a seat to listen to the featured speakers.
The keynote speaker was an event planner, probably the most sought after event planner in San Francisco. He had planned events for SF MOMA, the San Francisco Symphony, major corporations, and the most expensive and elaborate private parties. Abbey knew him by name though she had never seen him. When Abbey relayed this to me, I immediately assumed he was born with a silver spoon, very comfortable around the wealthy given his own upper-class upbringing. But my assumptions about this man were all wrong.
In fact, he had grown up in rural New Mexico, in a working-class family that had trouble making ends meet. His father was a craft maker, possibly clocks, but I forget what exactly he made. This elite event planner talked about his childhood in New Mexico and his fascination with his father. He would sit in the basement studio and watch carefully as his father meticilously put together his crafts. He was amazed by his father's attention to detail. His father was not a wealthy man, by any means. But he put his passion into the details of his craft, knowing he would not be compensated in relation to the effort he gave.
The successful event planner, speaking at the wedding expo, talked about what he learned from his father. Mainly two things: his father's attention to detail and the love of the craft that was created.
As this young event planner started his career, first moving away from rural New Mexico to San Francisco, he never forgot his roots and passion for details. He also developed his own mantra: trust your instincts, deeply. Abbey relayed how when this event planner would meet with people planning an event, his first thought was colors. After discussing the event for a short time, the colors for the event would become clear to him. This was a visceral, instinctual reaction, choosing the colors after a short conversation. But this successful event planner learned to trust, immediately, the colors he had chosen for the event. He felt deeply that the first colors to come into his mind would be the correct colors for the event.
Abbey shared this story with me months ago, and it has had a pretty profound impact on me. Hearing this event planner's story about his father, the attention to detail and the colors has made me realize just how vital it is to trust your instincts.
For me this plays out mainly in my creative pursuits though it can certainly apply to business or any other human endeavor. For example, if I play a chord progression on the guitar and it sounds good, I've learned to lock it in. I trust my instincts. I feel it in my gut. I'm ready to defend this chord progression to my death. Well, not really, but I feel committed to it. I feel like I'm willing to face negative criticism.
I have also learned to trust my instincts when it comes to writing. If I feel it deeply and immediately, it usually means I go with it. I have no idea where the idea for naming my last show, "The Show!", came from. But once it popped into my head and my reaction was positive, I stuck with it. We had The Show! on Thursday, June 14th, and it went great. I don't know how much of a role the title played, but I feel good knowing I stuck to my instincts.
When my sister or other friends ask me about art, writing, or creativity generally, one of the first things I say is trust your instincts. If you feel it, go with it, stick to it, even if it may eventually lead to negative criticism.
For me, I feel it in my stomach, literally in my gut. The muscles in and around my stomach tighten, as if readying for battle. I am in tune with my body, and my body is telling me to stick to my guns. Even if it is just a glimmer of an idea, an irrational idea, at the very least, write it down.
When I say trust your instinct in this context, I'm talking about creative impulses. I'm talking about the first instinctual reaction to creative impulses. I'm not talking about trusting your gut all the time. For example, if you gut is telling you to end your life, don't do it. Seek help. Go to the hospital.
I'm not talking about all gut level responses. I'm talking about that fleeting, ever-so-vulnerable, first moment when you feel, instantaneously, that you have a good idea for a creative project or something to add to a creative project. I'm encouraging you with my whole soul to go after it like a wolf after meat. At the very least protect it, don't let it get stomped on by your own negative thoughts, negative thoughts that aren't fast enough to pummel the creative instinct before it is born. That creative instinct arrived, it is alive. Of course, your negative thinking will attempt to crush it, but over time you can develop strength and protect the impulse.
This doesn't mean that I tune out feedback. Quite the contrary. Feedback from other people is hugely important, and I am a firm believer in flexibility. It's fine to change and adapt. But make sure you lock in that first creative instinct. And (this part is HUGE) don't be afraid to follow it to its conclusion. Be smart, weigh the possible consequences, be aware of what might happen if you do follow your creative passions to their logical conclusions. But don't let all of this post-first-instinct mind chatter steer you away from your gut level response. TRUST IT, DEEPLY.
from the wild hollows of creative singe (following your instincts will sometimes hurt), with love for mothers and widows and wives-to-be and all artists everywhere regardless of where you fall on the gender spectrum,
Anthony
ps - I think Malcolm Gladwell may have written a book about this. But I haven't read it.
pps - here's a great song by The Donkeys:
"Excelsior Lady"
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Young L: Hip Hop's Next Genius Producer/Rapper?
Loud Pockets
I recommend downloading Young L's free mixtape:
http://www.thefader.com/2011/08/08/young-ls-as-i-float-the-great-john-nash-mixtape/
You have to click "(Alternate D/L)"
then click where it says, "Click here to start download from sendspace"
It's worth it. You might find the genius.
much love,
Anthony
I recommend downloading Young L's free mixtape:
http://www.thefader.com/2011/08/08/young-ls-as-i-float-the-great-john-nash-mixtape/
You have to click "(Alternate D/L)"
then click where it says, "Click here to start download from sendspace"
It's worth it. You might find the genius.
much love,
Anthony
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Here We Go Magic - great live!
I'm writing tonight, Tuesday night, because on Thursday I'll be at The Show! Tonight I went to see Here We Go Magic at the Independent. They were great. Really beautiful and fantastic. Even the down-tempo stuff on the album that I have a harder time getting into was great. They really brought it out and mashed it up with the uptempo stuff. They are expert musicians, precise, complex, layered. But also just down to jam and have a good time.
I got to see Peter a little bit after the show. He's the drummer for Here We Go Magic, but I met him back in 2006 in nyc when he was in Trick and the Heartstrings. I love Peter. He's got such good, welcoming energy. He's now pretty much a total rock-star, but he was happy to see me and really wanted to meet Abbey. Wonderful connection. And he's a good fucking drummer! He was before, but his chops have obviously improved. That's what happens when you play a lot, or do anything a lot, usually. You get better. Peter had to play some seriously up-tempo shit that had to interlock with intricate guitar work. And the band's new bass player, this chick that looks like Florence from Florence and the Machine, she was bad ass. She fucking rocked and can sing.
I absolutely recommend you go out and see Here We Go Magic if you get the chance. And in the meantime buy their new album, "A Different Ship". I love the cover art:
much love,
Anthony
ps - I'm still dancing to this song...
How Do I Know
6/15/12
pps - The Show! went great. : )
I got to see Peter a little bit after the show. He's the drummer for Here We Go Magic, but I met him back in 2006 in nyc when he was in Trick and the Heartstrings. I love Peter. He's got such good, welcoming energy. He's now pretty much a total rock-star, but he was happy to see me and really wanted to meet Abbey. Wonderful connection. And he's a good fucking drummer! He was before, but his chops have obviously improved. That's what happens when you play a lot, or do anything a lot, usually. You get better. Peter had to play some seriously up-tempo shit that had to interlock with intricate guitar work. And the band's new bass player, this chick that looks like Florence from Florence and the Machine, she was bad ass. She fucking rocked and can sing.
I absolutely recommend you go out and see Here We Go Magic if you get the chance. And in the meantime buy their new album, "A Different Ship". I love the cover art:
Anthony
ps - I'm still dancing to this song...
How Do I Know
6/15/12
pps - The Show! went great. : )
Thursday, June 7, 2012
The Show! Why Come?
On Thursday next week, there's gonna be a show at the Hotel Utah. Why should you take time out of your important, busy schedule and come? I would say most importantly the music is going to be good.
All three performers, Katie, Gyasi and Starr are singer/songwriters. They will each take the stage with just an acoustic guitar and their voice. Each will play alone for about 45 minutes. But they are different in good ways. And their differences will play off each other and make the show interesting. All three care deeply about music. I have seen them all perform live and was drawn to each of them, enough to invest my time and energy to co-organize this show to bring people in contact with their music.
With a solid foundation of good music, coming to this event will give you an opportunity to connect with real people. There is always an opportunity for shared connection between people during and after live music. This can be a special space. My belief is that the people drawn to this show, most friends of the performers, me and my co-organizer, Yasya, are good folk. I anticipate there will be a positivity that runs through conversations and the connections made at this show.
There will be beer, revelry, good times. It's your show. You get to experience it how you want to. You help create the larger experience.
I took next week off, mainly so I could go out and put up signs in coffee shops and hand out flyers, old school style. There's a lot of love being put into this show, from everyone involved. Even Anthony who was originally going to play, but had to cancel because his younger brother is graduating from high school on the same night, has remained heavily involved in getting the word out. All three of the performers have put the work in. Yasya and I have put the work in. This is usually a sign something good is going to happen. But you never know. It's the mystery of not knowing that's both exciting and uncomfortable. It's the mystery that will hopefully compel you to come out.
I hope to see you there.
much love,
Anthony
All three performers, Katie, Gyasi and Starr are singer/songwriters. They will each take the stage with just an acoustic guitar and their voice. Each will play alone for about 45 minutes. But they are different in good ways. And their differences will play off each other and make the show interesting. All three care deeply about music. I have seen them all perform live and was drawn to each of them, enough to invest my time and energy to co-organize this show to bring people in contact with their music.
With a solid foundation of good music, coming to this event will give you an opportunity to connect with real people. There is always an opportunity for shared connection between people during and after live music. This can be a special space. My belief is that the people drawn to this show, most friends of the performers, me and my co-organizer, Yasya, are good folk. I anticipate there will be a positivity that runs through conversations and the connections made at this show.
There will be beer, revelry, good times. It's your show. You get to experience it how you want to. You help create the larger experience.
I took next week off, mainly so I could go out and put up signs in coffee shops and hand out flyers, old school style. There's a lot of love being put into this show, from everyone involved. Even Anthony who was originally going to play, but had to cancel because his younger brother is graduating from high school on the same night, has remained heavily involved in getting the word out. All three of the performers have put the work in. Yasya and I have put the work in. This is usually a sign something good is going to happen. But you never know. It's the mystery of not knowing that's both exciting and uncomfortable. It's the mystery that will hopefully compel you to come out.
I hope to see you there.
much love,
Anthony
Thursday, May 31, 2012
not so much retirement as vacation or Change and Introspection
Okay, so I might have been a bit overly dramatic in my last post. I'm not planning on retiring from music and/or writing. I don't think I could even if I wanted to. At some point in the future I will be compelled to play music again although I haven't since my last open mic bloodbath. Not to mention the irony of writing about my retirement from writing. I was planning on using this as a jumping off point to got into a deep, French, theoretical discussion of Irony in all its wonders. But I will spare you the intellectual fireworks and stick with the savor of brevity. (Mark my words, I will return to the subject of Irony, and when I do, it will be with the energy of the rush of the bulls in Pamplona.)
I wasn't clear in my last post, but I wasn't intending to retire from the blog. The blog is easy. If I want to just post a song one week, that's all I gotta do. Retiring from writing last week meant retiring from the difficult task of writing fiction, short stories specifically. In part, this was related to the brutal feedback I received in my class. In part, this was related to learning, again, that writing is really hard, and if you want to write well, it demands time, attention, energy, focus and, most importantly, re-writing.
I've taken two things out of my life for the moment: playing music and writing fiction. Because of this, I've had to re-examine my priorities and think about who I am. New identity. Missing parts. For the moment, no longer the ambitious, newbie, musician; no longer the ambitious, newbie, author. This week I've felt empty and uncertain. My therapist #2, the more experimental one, has taught me to sit with these feelings rather than running away from them. So, I've been a little down sitting with feelings of emptiness and loss.
Or I was until my article was published on Tuesday in the Albany Patch about my struggles with anxiety, depression and panic attacks (link below). I was overwhelmed with the positive feedback the article generated from friends and family. I wasn't expecting such an outpouring of love and support. This is a wonderful thing, of course. But it's also made think, "what made the article connect with people so deeply?" I feel lucky to have wonderfully supportive people in my life. But it has also been a bit emotionally exhausting. It's strange that the week I decide to retire from writing, my article is published, and I'm overwhelmed with love and support. Such a lesson: one week my writing class is ripping my story apart, the next week people are effusively launching into love letters triggered by my article. I don't want to down play the significance of these love letters. Every one has meant the earth to me; most have been better written than my article. But overall, it has been a lesson in balance. I'm trying not to get too down from the criticism and not too up from the praise.
with sweeping affection, the love of Irony, and luck in our quest for balance,
Anthony
http://albany.patch.com/articles/albany-doctor-helps-albany-native-overcome-severe-mental-health-challenges
(http://gyasiross.bandcamp.com/)
I wasn't clear in my last post, but I wasn't intending to retire from the blog. The blog is easy. If I want to just post a song one week, that's all I gotta do. Retiring from writing last week meant retiring from the difficult task of writing fiction, short stories specifically. In part, this was related to the brutal feedback I received in my class. In part, this was related to learning, again, that writing is really hard, and if you want to write well, it demands time, attention, energy, focus and, most importantly, re-writing.
I've taken two things out of my life for the moment: playing music and writing fiction. Because of this, I've had to re-examine my priorities and think about who I am. New identity. Missing parts. For the moment, no longer the ambitious, newbie, musician; no longer the ambitious, newbie, author. This week I've felt empty and uncertain. My therapist #2, the more experimental one, has taught me to sit with these feelings rather than running away from them. So, I've been a little down sitting with feelings of emptiness and loss.
Or I was until my article was published on Tuesday in the Albany Patch about my struggles with anxiety, depression and panic attacks (link below). I was overwhelmed with the positive feedback the article generated from friends and family. I wasn't expecting such an outpouring of love and support. This is a wonderful thing, of course. But it's also made think, "what made the article connect with people so deeply?" I feel lucky to have wonderfully supportive people in my life. But it has also been a bit emotionally exhausting. It's strange that the week I decide to retire from writing, my article is published, and I'm overwhelmed with love and support. Such a lesson: one week my writing class is ripping my story apart, the next week people are effusively launching into love letters triggered by my article. I don't want to down play the significance of these love letters. Every one has meant the earth to me; most have been better written than my article. But overall, it has been a lesson in balance. I'm trying not to get too down from the criticism and not too up from the praise.
with sweeping affection, the love of Irony, and luck in our quest for balance,
Anthony
http://albany.patch.com/articles/albany-doctor-helps-albany-native-overcome-severe-mental-health-challenges
(http://gyasiross.bandcamp.com/)
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
I'm retiring
I'm retiring. From performing and writing music, and from writing. I'm done, exhauseted. I want to sleep and eat and watch the San Francisco Giants. However, I am not retiring from promoting The Show! I'm going to keep promoting that bitch voraciously. You can't keep me off those bases. I'm going to steal second and third. And The Show! is going to pop.
But as far as my own music is concerned, I'm done. I played Second Sundays on Sunday and sucked. I tried to play Bob Dylan's, "Like a Rolling Stone," Bob Marley's, "Stir It Up," and Bruce Springsteen's, "I'm On Fire". I absolutely butchered Like a Rolling Stone. I took a friendly cow and slaughtered it, thrashed about with my voice off key, off pitch, in the wrong neighborhood, samurai'ing the friendly cow, sliced lower intestines and blood everywhere.
Yes, you could argue Bob Dylan does the same thing, but I am not Bob Dylan. Mine was just bad. It was kindof of a self-fulling prophecy. No, let me re-phrase that. I didn't practice enough. I didn't prepare enough. And yes, it's both ambitious and insane to play what many believe to be the greatest rock song ever. But you gotta do it, right? Wrong. At least learn to play the chords right, and sing in key, and not suck. The other two songs got progressively better. I'm On Fire was okay, and Stir It Up was decent. With Stir It Up, I didn't try to sound like Bob Marley, and I actually thought I sang well. I love that song so much. I just love that song.
And I'm done as a writer. It's too hard, and I can't deal with any type of critical feedback. I'm soft, like the belly of a whale. Writing is too hard. You have to do TWO drafts. That's just too hard. Call me what you like, but I'm retiring.
I've had a great run. I've been published in the Albany Patch. You can actually link to my articles just over there, to the right, on this page. And I've got another article in the hopper, all ready to go. Just waiting on my editor to give it the green light. I'm hoping before 2013.
Musically, I'm an award winning performer at Second Sundays. They love me there. I'm absolutely critical to the ongoing success of Second Sundays. They gave me the Best Supporting Performer award. In all seriousness, I got a small, plastic, director's bull horn, non-amplified. That was the award. It said my name on it and it said Best Supporting Actor or Performer, I don't remember which. But the point is I've had great success. It's time to hang up the cleats.
I may come out of retirement at some point. But right now, I'm done. I'm just too tired to play music. And writing is just too hard, any writer will tell you that.
I love you, from the depths of my failures,
Anthony
I love this soooooooooooooooooooo much:
Bob Marley - "Stir It Up"
But as far as my own music is concerned, I'm done. I played Second Sundays on Sunday and sucked. I tried to play Bob Dylan's, "Like a Rolling Stone," Bob Marley's, "Stir It Up," and Bruce Springsteen's, "I'm On Fire". I absolutely butchered Like a Rolling Stone. I took a friendly cow and slaughtered it, thrashed about with my voice off key, off pitch, in the wrong neighborhood, samurai'ing the friendly cow, sliced lower intestines and blood everywhere.
Yes, you could argue Bob Dylan does the same thing, but I am not Bob Dylan. Mine was just bad. It was kindof of a self-fulling prophecy. No, let me re-phrase that. I didn't practice enough. I didn't prepare enough. And yes, it's both ambitious and insane to play what many believe to be the greatest rock song ever. But you gotta do it, right? Wrong. At least learn to play the chords right, and sing in key, and not suck. The other two songs got progressively better. I'm On Fire was okay, and Stir It Up was decent. With Stir It Up, I didn't try to sound like Bob Marley, and I actually thought I sang well. I love that song so much. I just love that song.
And I'm done as a writer. It's too hard, and I can't deal with any type of critical feedback. I'm soft, like the belly of a whale. Writing is too hard. You have to do TWO drafts. That's just too hard. Call me what you like, but I'm retiring.
I've had a great run. I've been published in the Albany Patch. You can actually link to my articles just over there, to the right, on this page. And I've got another article in the hopper, all ready to go. Just waiting on my editor to give it the green light. I'm hoping before 2013.
Musically, I'm an award winning performer at Second Sundays. They love me there. I'm absolutely critical to the ongoing success of Second Sundays. They gave me the Best Supporting Performer award. In all seriousness, I got a small, plastic, director's bull horn, non-amplified. That was the award. It said my name on it and it said Best Supporting Actor or Performer, I don't remember which. But the point is I've had great success. It's time to hang up the cleats.
I may come out of retirement at some point. But right now, I'm done. I'm just too tired to play music. And writing is just too hard, any writer will tell you that.
I love you, from the depths of my failures,
Anthony
I love this soooooooooooooooooooo much:
Bob Marley - "Stir It Up"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)