Don't call me a SELLOUT

Dear CT MUSICIANS that call me a SELLOUT...(explicit)

Don’t call me a fuckin sellout when you haven't even left your hometown. This isn't for money. This is my life. Life means more to me than money. No amount of money will make me happy. Gambling taught me that.

All of my life I have felt like the outsider. It is as if I didn’t belong. I take pride in existing outside of the box. Most people say they live outside of the box but they are liars.

If I am stuck in a 9-5 job living in one town for too long, I feel hateful, desperate, and suicidal. It feels like sludge. Thick. Disgusting. Sticky. The sludge that drains my blood. The sludge that sets roadblock to my very being. I cannot and will not “blend in”. In my hometown bars usually I am there against my will, out of sheer boredom, observing all of you, just wishing for my chance to escape the boring routines which you enjoy.

I am no longer convinced that I can make it in the corporate world doing the same thing for 50 years straight. Call me a gyspy, call me a hobo, call me a traveling side show freak. Call me what you will. This is who I am. It runs in my blood.

I am not running away from anything. I am running TO something. I strongly dislike being on vacation for the sake of getting away. I have to see things important. I have to have some sort of grand mission and purpose. I am not an escape artist.

Since the old age of 23 I have traveled all kinds of places with many different people. It has taught me some valuable lessons in life. All behaviors and values are learned. We are products of our environment. Nothing is made in a vacuum. Being suspicious that everybody is out to get you isn’t paranoia. It’s a survival technique, because most people would do whatever it takes to get ahead. I trust only those that I am close to. That’s a risk I consider to take because love involves risk. And yes, there is a such thing as love, just because it isn’t with you all of the time don’t be a judgmental ignorant prick and assume it doesn’t exist. Reality has a liberal bias.

So where do we go from here? Indeed the only workplace I have ever experienced true happiness is the first day of being on the road with any band. Now with a woman, my wife has brought me the best times I have ever shared with another human. And my son, my precious tiny little man, words can’t describe how happy he makes me every time I see him crack a smile in my direction.

My identities as a father, husband, coworker, boss, friend, musician, merch guy, music promoter, brother, and son come into clashes constantly. Sometimes I forget which role I’m in. It’s all so confusing. So looking at how far I’ve come in my life, I’m accepting the fact that I cannot relate to anybody 100 percent on most subjects. I know why I’m here. I am one of the good guys on this world. I am also a nomad and traveler.

The thought of having a home just doesn’t compute. Despite years of living in the same place and trying to keep the food in the fridge, home, to me, is where I keep my belongings. I don’t go home to unwind. I go home because that’s where I can prepare for the next adventure. My heart is on the road.

Selling out, for me, would be to get that 5 day a week job. Selling out for me, would be not to pursue a career that involves traveling. Selling out to me, would be my son not ever going to see Disney world, the space needle, the Hollywood hills, the victory statue in berlin…because daddy was too busy working. I want to show my wife and son the world that I live in.

Don’t call me a fuckin sellout just because you have already given up your journey. Accept that there is more than one way to do anything. Accept that some people are just restless with routines. Accept that some people take more risks than you do. Acccept that you are not the smartest one on the block. And RESPECT those that are working their asses to the bone to shape their lives while you sit on your ass confused wondering where you went wrong.

Fuckers. Instead of ignoring negativity, I confront it.