I Want to Win

The good news is that I'm sitting on a boatload of high quality recording equipment. The bad news is that neither the Russian woman at the beach nor the French woman at the World Cup game were really ready to bring it. Or even let it be brung. (Ladies, I am willing to do the work.) The Cuban/Puerto Rican woman by Wrigley Field had a boyfriend. Though she looked a little bored. The hispanic woman in the bookstore didn't really seem that interested.

Whatever.

The only other news is that, surprise, surprise, I still can't play basketball. Not that I can't lift the ball and shoot, but more like my joints are shot. I imagine one of the more difficult parts of getting rich and famous is that you feel so strong that you forget all the stuff you can't do anymore and just burn yourself out. I'm not going to be on tour eating soul food every day. Or even once a week. The discipline's a drag, but I've gotta go with what works at this point. I'm too far into it to keep all that stuff "on the table"--or in negotiation as it were.

Damn, cause I beat that guy, too. He was just a kid but he did have a shot or two. And he hit about 5 threes in a row at one point. (After I went up and thought I was going to run away with it of course--dig deep, yo!)

If only I could harness my competitive drive for larger, more complex things. I guess you don't spend 10 years formulating and training to flip the whole world's cultural script without some serious desire to win, but lord I miss the rewards. I miss the points. I miss the payoff. I miss winning. I want to crush things. Win. Drive inferior music into the Siberias of the collective consciousness. Beat other people.

And I will, I've just got to do it nicely. Without caring that I'm doing it. Just because.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it.

Or maybe that's just the untamed beast in me. Maybe I just want someone to rub my back and say "You know what, baby, everything's going to be okay." And lie down next to me and want to stay.

Then I probably wouldn't care if I won or not. No--I probably would--but maybe not as much.

Hey, maybe that's why I don't have that person. I can tell you honestly that I tried doggedly to sell out in my previous incarnation as an ad man. I even wrote poems about it. I had the woman lined up as well. Luckily, she didn't give a shit about me either. LOL. If you can't laugh about it, I guess you can't do anything. I think she dates women these days. Oh well. The underground got her anyway.

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I was thinking as I woke up from my nap today (okay, life isn't that bad..) that the symbols for male and female as described in The DaVinci code are also perfect representations of the old and new corporate structure. ^ for male, the old top down way. Great at organization, not so much for having any fun or freaking it. V for female. Decentralized, feeling it. Here a leader is determined by how many people he or she can support/inspire. In the old model it was how many people he could control/motivate. White Gold is built radically on the latter model. And ready to capture huge segments of the economy as soon as it pops.

If anyone would have said, in the late 70s, that The Cold Crush Brothers and Kool Herc, and a relative handful of others including Afrika Bambaataa, The Disco Three, Grandwizard Theodore, that these maligned/ignored artists from the South Bronx (and probably a few from Brooklyn--and a few like the Last Poets--my point here is not to disclude anyone), if anyone would have mentioned that they were building the foundation of a worldwide cultural, economic, and social force, the likes of which the world had never seen before, who WOULD NOT have said they were crazy?

Disco had been a fad. And faded. So had funk. And soul, the blues, cool jazz, hot jazz, and swing. And hip hop may still be a fad, we won't know for another 100 years or so. But by that time it wil have had such an enormous impact that it'll barely matter if it completely transforms. And each of those other forms had enormous impace globally as well. It's just that now, the entire western economy depends upon popular culture.

And them's big shoes.

My point here is just to say that we should expect--and work for--the unexpected. We should assume that something huge is right under our noses. If we are to believe the past. And we should expect that getting more into who we are--becoming more willing to be ourselves, express ourselves in public--dance in the park--will lead directly to riches both internal/spiritual and external/material.

BUT we've got to go deep. We can't recycle anything that's come before. We've got to get down below the dust and muck and mire and tar to the gold. To the root. And lock in. If it looks like the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s it probably is. Hell, one band I saw by accident in San Francisco looked like the eighteen-90s. But now I'm being a bitch--and exhuding (exhuming?)--being--the exact opposite of what I'm talking about. Let's see if I can get back on track.

Here's the deal. What if Bam knew what was coming? What if van Gogh knew he would sell? What if he knew his colors would inspire millions for years and years?

Puffy and Russell Simmons knew. And got their couple hundred mil. But they were middle and new schoolers. What if one of the old-schoolers knew? What if Charlie Christian knew? Robert Johnson?


Dre knew. He really knew. (I wonder if he gets a piece of Snoop, 50, the Game and Em's clothing--or just the records?)

You could argue that Mick Jagger knew--although he was mostly into music and not the larger cultural deal. That McCartney knew. Bob Geldof. Madonna knew. Cher?

But they all had jobs. They had to tour incessantly just to make ends (lavishly) meet. They were all dealing with the old economy of nuts and bolts. Making room in our boring-ass world for some love (remember 1976? No--I mean really remember it?) They just had more lovely, finally fun widgets. They still had to prod, promote, tour, covert.

Now people expect it. Are starving for it.

And I plan on throwing in my two cents. I just got an amp that sounds better than any I've ever heard.

And if I can contribute anything, it will be to show what true expression is really worth. Especially if you're an adult and your energy is straight. I certainly don't have a monopoly on it. Hell, sometimes I don't even have it, but if I can show Lee Scratch Perry what his records--what his story and the risks he took are really worth--or--EVEN MORE IMPORTANTLY--show the next worldwide breakout change-the-game producer how valuable his work would be if he takes the same risks without giving up his consciousness, his love, to drugs and alcohol (yawn), then my work will be done. How much farther he can go if he feels all the feelings he wants to avoid. No, because depressants and hallucenogens, not to mention stimulants and sugar, are inefficient means of cultivating love. And notoriously weak ways to transmit energy anyone else would want to feel over a period of time.

Now all I have to do is drop it.