I haven't had extra, save-yourself money forever so it doesn't scare me like it used to. I'm not afraid, maybe I am and I just won't allow myself to feel it. Who gives a fuck though?
I make things into big deals more often than not. I'm neurotic, but alas the car thing isn't why I sat down to blog tonight folks. Not even close. I'm not even that sad crazy enough. I know right? The pessimistic somewhat battler of all things death & grim isn't in that mood tonight. In fact I've been riding a certain high.
Let me explain. I had a great show. I lost my voice, that sucked but otherwise, I had a great show. It's not because people where there, they were there. It's not because people where there to see me, they were. It's because I completely lost Joe Stanziola on stage and became -- in full Doo Wop glory: Second Hand King.
People say you need to find yourself on stage, and I can tell ya folks. There was absolutely nothing on my mind up there. Which is not very Joe Stanziola-like. I wasn't thinking about how I'm gonna fund the next project, or what'll happen if I have car problems, or how far I am from my current dream. I was just in the moment, completely SHK. It felt good man.
Second Hand King and Joe Stanziola by the way, are two completely different people. One is much nicer than the other. Joe Stanziola is kind of a dick, he can be at least. Or at least he prefaces that so you don't go off assuming he's the nicest guy in the world because he's not & Second Hand King is hard to explain. I don't know, if your a performer maybe you get it. I'm not quite sure I get it yet though.
Anyways, I'm here carless, walking home from my day job and it reminded me of the old days -- specifically the days I'd walk to work at 5 AM, takes 30 minutes to do carless for a job that I hated all so I could have shows like that. To have more. I wasn't even that good yet but I believed in myself then, and I believe in myself now.
You know I do a lot of wanderin'. This blog isn't ready to face all my demons yet but maybe I'm starting to get it. Part of the beauty of being as neurotic as I am is there is a certain degree of pessimism with all soft jabs of optimism. I drive myself crazy before shows, and it's really for no reason. It's really hard to grasp sometimes that this group of people came to see you be you. They came to see Second Hand King. That's fuckin' crazy.
I added one new principal this year. Stop selling yourself short. It sounds dumb, but it's not. I know who I am, what I can do. Do that shit. Jesus. I can't end this blog like that. Too uplifting. Dead puppies. Fuck. No. That's too sad. Some nice kid that looks like a younger Elijah Wood, you know the one in The Good Son drops his ice cream on the ground but then some stranger sees that and buys him another one.
That's how you end this shit.
Second Hand King (I think)