<\/p>\n
I have 13 days to put everything in storage and get my life down to one suitcase, plan an overseas trip that may be my last for some time, find and move to a new place, plan a book tour, make sure the book printer doesn\u2019t, you know, fuck up, work 12 hours a day every day at my normal shit swilling job and my weekend job in a frenzied attempt to make money, and conquer Iowa.<\/p>\n
I sat at a bar the other day for a liquid lunch with a couple of friends and shared my woe.\u00a0 One of my friends bristled, announcing that he was in the final stages of completing his MFA and, upon completion, planned to upgrade his life.\u00a0 Get a real job, make real money, and get girls.\u00a0 The type of girls who like money.\u00a0 Man, he had it just as hard.<\/p>\n
I was one pitcher deep and considering another, so I didn\u2019t bother telling him that an MFA is the equivalent of scarring your face and entering the fourth year of a criminal tax trial.<\/p>\n
But it got me thinking.<\/p>\n
Not in a \u201cchange my life\u201d way.\u00a0 I\u2019ve stopped that.\u00a0 It got me thinking, mainly, about how whoever thought of the MFA degree has an imaginative, albeit cruel, wit.\u00a0 It also got me thinking how, once again, I\u2019ve been exposed to the \u201clife-wife-settle down\u201d philosophy that is so ruinous to the very rare and precious artistic mind which leads one to piss away life-wife-money on an MFA in the first place.\u00a0 My friends are all artistic types.\u00a0 Those who don\u2019t fit in the box.\u00a0 But, in two distinct waves, they suddenly found themselves regretting the world outside of the box.\u00a0 The first wave fell when they hit 25.\u00a0 They married, they found god, they bought million dollar town homes, they had kids, they drifted out of touch with the misfits like me.\u00a0 They are, 100%, unhappy and in dire straights these days.<\/p>\n
The second wave came at 30.\u00a0 Those final stragglers saw that mile marker as the last chance to settle down.\u00a0 Two years ago, and at that venerable age, it made even more sense to buy million dollar townhomes.\u00a0 I consider it a divine punishment that, now, the DC real estate bubble has defied historical leveling-out behavior with a good and proper bust.\u00a0 I like driving past mcmansions and getting the feeling that there\u2019s another Dust Bowl on.\u00a0 I especially like it when my friends who forced the settle down hand are now broken down into a screaming frenzy and crying into their beer at the Royal Mile while I smugly order from the rare scotches list.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m not a fool.\u00a0 I know that some people are made for the settled world.\u00a0 I have friends who married well and live happily.\u00a0 People who are immune to the winds of change and will always be secure.\u00a0 But I, you see, can tell the difference.\u00a0 You can spot it a mile away.<\/p>\n
Living the artist\u2019s life is difficult.\u00a0 It\u2019s inevitable that, at some point, the need to find some sort of anchor will become overwhelming.\u00a0 It\u2019s fortunate that, long ago, I gave up on life.\u00a0 I\u2019m satisfied renting \u2013 unless you sell me some self sufficient hardship cabin in the woods.\u00a0 I hate women \u2013 at least, the ones that cost money.\u00a0 I\u2019m a huge fan of hoodrats and Zoloft-addled hippie chicks who paint by day and wait tables by night and suffer from debilitating panic attacks.\u00a0 I find them amusing as well as attractive and, hell, if a woman can\u2019t entertain you, what\u2019s the point?\u00a0 It\u2019s like owning a pet.\u00a0 Forget about dogs and cats \u2013 go right for the monkey.\u00a0 Is it PMS or are you just hanging out in the rafters for the hell of it?<\/p>\n
To be a true artist \u2013 to embrace what you do and believe in as a writer, painter, actor, whatever \u2013 is to admit to yourself one sad and terrible fact:\u00a0 Nobody will pay you.\u00a0 Not at first.\u00a0 Eventually, you\u2019ll make money.\u00a0 Or commit suicide.\u00a0 Eventually, you could make a million.\u00a0 Or just 30k a year.\u00a0 Either way, doing what you do, anything is a victory.\u00a0 If you can simply live well, pay for modest vices, and have enough left over to take the train to the city for an all night party at Fat Bertha\u2019s Bathhouse, then that is what it was all for.\u00a0 Forget the million.\u00a0 I\u2019m sorry I even mentioned that.\u00a0 Nobody makes millions working on art.\u00a0 Danielle Steele\u2019s work is not art.\u00a0 That\u2019s a different path, though I don\u2019t discount or condemn it.\u00a0 It\u2019s an entirely different decision that you must make at a point well down the road from first embracing your poverty-stricken, insane, horrifying choice to Love Art.\u00a0 I mean, seriously, you\u2019re so fucked that it\u2019s not even cute and endearing.<\/p>\n
Let\u2019s break it down.\u00a0 We\u2019ve briefly visited the MFA problem \u2013 which, I suppose, is the ultimate way to embrace the life of a true artist short of cutting off an ear or playing knife games with your 14 year old lover \u2013 and hit the money side of things.\u00a0 For the job, the true artist must be prepared to swallow some shit.\u00a0 My rule is to never make less than your age.<\/p>\n
For example, I\u2019m up to 33k now, a bit more when you throw in my hideous weekend job where I\u2019m frequently drunk and occasionally high.<\/p>\n
The problem is, now that I\u2019ve passed the 30 marker, making my age or more will get increasingly difficult.\u00a0 The level of jobs that the slacker\/artist\/hopeless monster can maintain will start to peter out around the 40k mark, and won\u2019t exist at all past 40k for most people.\u00a0 This leads into my new rule \u2013 if you haven\u2019t achieved what your \u201ctrue artist\u201d plans are by the time you turn 40, go ahead and see if you can overdose on something.\u00a0 Or marry rich.\u00a0 Or really and truly give up and buy an Airstream, park it in the Mojave, and raise rattlesnakes.\u00a0 (I frequently tout the latter plan because I know people who have done that sort of thing and they are happy<\/em>. Big time happy. M-O-O-N spells happy. And they even have more stuff than I do.\u00a0 You visit and it\u2019s all satellite TV and would you like this coffee, the beans are grown from the distended bellies of Ethiopian children, and my buddy from LA sent me this movie, it won\u2019t be in theaters for five years though because the Earth isn\u2019t ready for actual evidence of a race of super beings and horny perfect women from Titan, one of which is my wife, be sure to flush twice the handle sticks and this is how you work the light, it\u2019s tricky, damn trailer.)<\/p>\n I figure 40 is old enough to know where you are.\u00a0 It\u2019s the new 17 and a half, which is when my grandfather was fighting brutal Japanese warriors with two hands tied behind his back and my uncle was stomping on the faces of 12 year old Vietnamese girls with an armful of stolen Buddha statues and homemade rice liquor.<\/p>\n Next up is the big no-no, the statement that really made me want to order that second pitcher (see, I\u2019m keeping the thread of this article).\u00a0 My friend\u2019s statement that he wants girls that come with the privilege of \u201cmaking money.\u201d\u00a0 Dude.\u00a0 Dude, dude, dude.\u00a0 You can\u2019t see it now, but I was shaking my head right then.\u00a0 I was thinking:\u00a0 I love you, but I really have to kill you.\u00a0 I have to take you and gently put pressure on your throat, your dying gaze failing to meet my shifty, wicked eyes.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not about the girls!\u00a0 I mean, sure, it is.\u00a0 But you don\u2019t win chicks with money.\u00a0 The True Artist, the one who has embraced their artistic soul, must thrive on those hoodrats and Zoloft-addled day painters.\u00a0 You\u2019re not going to get the delicate, three hours in makeup, cocktail dress super girl.\u00a0 You don\u2019t want that, either, because I\u2019m going to tell you a secret.\u00a0 This is big \u2013 you should make note of this somewhere.\u00a0 Those types of girls don\u2019t know how to use their pussies.<\/p>\n And here\u2019s another big secret \u2013 the downhome chicks who have also embraced the life of the True Artist are the only ones who will know how to love you, in the end.\u00a0 No matter how much you make, or conform, or attempt to shake off the curse of the artist, they\u2019re the only path to happiness.<\/p>\n But don\u2019t worry!\u00a0 That\u2019s the problem.\u00a0 Folks drift around after the big three-oh and they think, my god, there\u2019s nothing here.\u00a0 I\u2019m dry, I\u2019m alone.\u00a0 Why?<\/p>\n Because, presumably, you\u2019re at home writing or doing whatever it is you\u2019re doing.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve achieved a state of zen this year.\u00a0 My own drift seems to have stabilized.\u00a0 I\u2019ve stopped looking for love and, instead, am looking for reliable sex, like a healthy male.\u00a0 I talk to my plants and drink in the shower till the water runs cold.\u00a0 I\u2019ve begun exploring the abuse of pills and have started to get kicked out of bars.\u00a0 I\u2019ve \u2013<\/p>\n Oh my god.<\/p>\n Well\u2026my friend from the bar (I ordered that second pitcher) has good looks, talent, and a good attitude.\u00a0 But he\u2019s worried.\u00a0 He\u2019s over 30 and has a new degree to flaunt.\u00a0 He\u2019s realizing the Terrible Truth.\u00a0 He\u2019s realizing that it\u2019s going to be Art or Death, and that there are many deaths out there.\u00a0 Not the least of which is living.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[352],"tags":[86,353],"class_list":["post-2531","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-gsarchive","tag-birthday-articles","tag-gs-archive-2004-2008"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2531","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2531"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2531\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2649,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2531\/revisions\/2649"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2531"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2531"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2531"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}