"Can't get along with people who are wrong"

The title of this post, being a line from the song posted above, is not strictly relevant to the subject here, but a secondary function of the "embed" a pretext to spur the reader to listen to the song, which is among my favorites by me. "Can't get along with people who are wrong" isn't to imply that people whose opinions I don't share aren't tolerable, it's about the importance of finding people who are right for one and one's life and what one wants to accomplish. That's a two-way street, of course: symbiosis forms the most solid, meaningful community.

By all this ". . . by me" stuff that I sling, it might seem as though I'm antisocial, stuck-up, or too ugly to leave the house. Acquiring the opportunity to do so much by myself was such a boon to me, on more than just the level of artistic self-sufficiency. The "empowerment" of self-sufficiency that carried over into a sense of self-redemption after years and years of floundering. It wasn't merely a dream come true, it was a destiny fulfilled – being able to show the world what I'd always know that I'd been made for, and been made of.

I realized, after some time back in the artistic saddle, that there were some bad decisions and wrong turns that I'd taken in order to take the long way back around to where I should be instead. In short, and in some way or another, I'd screwed some people over along the way. I don't feel as though all this music that I have under my belt justifies that nor vindicates me of that. It was more as though I had put at risk the innocent bystanders on the sidewalk by jumping out of the car driven by someone who had kidnaped me. This isn't an expression of remorse, though I'm hardly without it – this music-by-me was where I'd had to end up, and I'd gotten here without any map nor guidance, just by the irrational, and sometimes violently-resistant, force of intuition.

It was "interesting" to gauge the reactions to this artistic renaissance of mine by people who knew me, or had known me, or thought they knew me. It usually defied the ideas they'd held of me, most often for their own purposes. Many of them were invested in viewing me as someone who would remain a waste of potential, so they were disturbed by the explosion of such potential beyond their imaginations. Others were disturbed by the emotional candor and perspicacity of my songs. Still others, being artists themselves, felt narcissistically threatened by how "productive" (say it: prolific) I was being, not to mention (and some were careful to omit this) how good some of it undeniably was. Then there are people I meet and who are convinced that I'm a nice guy – until they hear my music by me, whence they cease to reciprocate my communication. In any case, I've fought too much to survive for as long as I have, have been nothing but sincere in what I've done artistically, and have improved and evolved as a person because of it – so I give not one fornicating turd about what anyone thinks of me according to their abreaction to my music by me.

However, it is such an outlook on my artistic activity that is a reason why I find myself socially at-odds with other musicians. I flout the conventions of personal and artistic comportment by which they are effecting their careers, which sometimes elicits acrimonious resentment. They themselves probably don't understand why they hate me, so I can't feel butt-hurt about it. Getting famous and/or gaining wealth from my music has been farthest from my mind as I have gone about it.

Musicians need mirrors and strokes. In my most recent day job, most of my co-workers were musicians, but although they freely talked about their musical activities, and expected others to find such interesting, they never took interest in what it is that I might do with music. When I'd mention it, they'd fail to pursue the subject, deflect it to themselves, or just abruptly go silent. Back in the 20th Century, when I was in my former musical incarnation, mutual musicianhood was the basis for an immediate sense of fraternity. Musicians back-then were more supportive of one another, going to others' shows without being badgered to do so, and would commiserate about the universal struggle of musicians. Now, musicians are solicitous, self-serving, and one-sided – thanks mainly to the influence of social media.

It may also be that such musicians of my acquaintance might not be willing to accommodate the idea of me as someone who does something "interesting." 'Tis a shame, because if we'd all join forces, we could establish a heck of a record label – which is something that musicians formerly would have done. It would also be cool to do some collaboration with one or more of them, just to see what results, since we're from different musical backgrounds. Collaboration is something I'd like to do more of – or, do – but it's been difficult to find suitable collaborators. For one thing, both or all concerned have to be in accord as to what constitutes "collaboration." There is also the matter of what's to be done with it after it's completed. And so on. I had formerly collaborated with other musicians, just for adventure; if it sucked, at least it was fun. Now? I wouldn't know. Being self-sufficient is a mixed blessing.