I’m sure I’ve said this before, but I have a tendency to always fall behind a bit when it comes to making major life decisions. I’m an incurable late bloomer. I got married a little later than I maybe should have and we’ll probably have kids much later than we probably should. Our financial situation could have been dealt with years prior to when we actually have managed to do it. My anxiety issues, my weight-loss, all of these things.. once they were finally  “under construction” there was always this feeling of “hey this is easy, how come I didn’t do this before?” Relatively speaking, all of these projects have been dealt with quite easily when compared to how impossible they may have at one time seemed.

And so it happens again. Despite having done so much in the last 5 years to draw a steady income outside of music, I am feeling myself pulled more and more back to it and I keep asking myself “why now?” The answer may simply coincide with my concurrent treatment for anxiety / depression. As a result of my therapy sessions and medication, I’ve found myself to be so much more comfortable on stage, so much more at peace playing with other musicians and much more capable of performing in the moment, that I think I simply enjoy making music again. Honestly it’s been way longer than 5 years since I’ve said that, probably since before I attended Berklee that I could say that I enjoyed making music in such a pure way. My only worry now is how to keep the momentum going. How do I keep the gigs coming and how could I, ultimately, leverage this back into a full-time career that fulfills my financial needs as well my psychic needs?

There are thousands blogs and hundreds of books, written by far better musicians and music industry pundits than I, devoted to answering that question and I ask it halfheartedly. I know the give and take between being a professional musician and a 9 to 5 schmo. Having done both, I know there’s a lot to be sacrificed in being a self-employed person, let alone a self-employed musician or artist. I’m not exactly prepared for it right now, but, for a change, I know that I want to be. I seem to know a lot of people who do what they love for a living.. or love what they do for a living.. (you get the idea). I know it’s a blessing to be counted among those people, but it’s never seemed like too much for ask, even though it’s always seemed impossible.

It can only be hoped that when the solution presents itself I will be as dumbfounded at how simple and easy it seems that I will wonder why I had not done it sooner.

It’s situations like this where I become very aware that my brain is nothing more than a kettle of chemicals and this thought makes me uneasy. While I am relieved by the effects of these drugs, I hate that I have to take them. I hate that I am more or less dependent on them. My therapist always tells me to think of my meds as a tool, something to allow me to better control my thoughts, and he’s right. The medication cancels out the noise so that I can really move forward with my thoughts, but there is always that nagging feeling that I couldn’t do without them. Even though I attribute so much of my anxiety to my 9 to 5 job, I know there are times in my life where I have been panic-stricken over situations that were not deserving of it. I should not live in the past, but if I had been taking these crazy pills back when I was in college, my transcript might look much different than it does.

I’ve been playing with Luke Taylor at his open mic shows at HK on The Bay (and also tomorrow’s show at GF Keegan’s) and it’s been a lot of fun. In some ways an open mic never feels like a real gig because there’s a lax level of professionalism inherit in the format of jamming with total strangers, but getting paid at the end of the night is always nice and it’s great to meet some of these incredible musicians that come out to play with us. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: there is some fantastic talent in this area and a shortage of venues to see them play

I’ve been pretty agitated for several weeks now. Got pissed off during an inconsequential spat with the wife a couple weeks ago and punched a wall that was stronger, older, and smarter than I am. Hand is still stiff, but I don’t think I broke anything. I feel stupid and embarrassed for letting myself get to that point. Probably the worst part of punching that wall has been every moment since when I reflect on how bad I could have potentially hurt my hand. For a brief moment all of my priorities went out the window. I could have really fucked up my hand and I am fortunate that I just hurt my pinky finger (on the right hand, which I don’t at all need to play bass).

Director: Pascal Laugier

Country of Origin: France

Ratings:

Justin: 3 1/2 Stars

Review: As far as French Horror films go, Martyrs is more French than it is Horror. By that, I simply mean that it lacks the heart palpitating excitement of other new films in the genre (please see Haute Tension, Inside, Ils and Frontiers) and misses its mark by trying to do too much. Nevertheless, it contains two very important elements to all great French Horror films: hot-as-fuck French girls being crazy as hell and a lot of gratuitous “why-would-you-do-that?” violence. Despite having some great moments, Martyrs just doesn’t seem to be quite positive what kind of movie it wants to be. I would have been content to see Lucie killing more innocents in hopes of silencing her psychic tormentor and to see Anna slowly discovering that Lucie was completely unjustified in her killings, insert a few more scenes where innocent upper-class French households go down in a blaze of shotgun fire. Would have been great. Instead, what begins as a simple premise for a solid psychological horror film takes a turn towards sicko BDSM film and it just becomes a bummer to watch some poor girl beaten senseless and surgically mutilated by some fucked-up, high-society cult trying to find proof of life after death.

Yeah I just gave away the ending.

You know, maybe I’m just a fat jerk-off American, but I just hate it when people make horror movies where the wrong people get killed. That’s why I still think American Psycho sucks. Patrick Bateman was an asshole. I don’t identify with him because he’s a self-absorbed yuppie, I don’t care if he throws a chainsaw at a hooker (..ok that was sweet). But, I digress. I realize I’m probably missing the point of Martyrs (and American Psycho for that matter) but if there some deep philosophical meaning to this film it is overshadowed by the amount of effort put into depicting the abuse of young girls by a gang of old money brutes– not to mention that these philosophical elements don’t come in play until 1/2 way into the feature. If the horror elements were really the focus of the film then they were diluted by the filmmakers attempt at making some deep philosophical statement.

Nevertheless, style points for the most realistic depiction of a flayed human being I’ve seen since Hellraiser.