Trent Resnor can have some pretty brilliant lyrics at times.
The angst of turning another year older in a time stamped profession is rather grating on the nerves. Not to mention what toll it takes on those around you. Here it is, another year and I’ve somewhat lost my way. There is no order. Meanwhile, every year about this time I get on this thing and complain about the same things. It’s now THREE years since the completion or near completion of Darkside. But I can’t dwell on the wasted time. I can’t dwell on the missed marks, targets and goals. I can’t dwell on the wasted time or mistakes. I must more or less focus on the quick catch up. The moving forward. The dispelling of the malcontent who takes everything he’s frustrated about and thrusts it upon those who’ve tried to be a support system.
I have to look upon this as a new beginning, with new changes, like the coming of a New Year. Only this time, I suppose actually KEEPING the resolutions is in order. I must not just think of mistakes I have made, but look more at the failures of other who walked similar paths as I. Learning from THEIR mistakes. All the while not falling into my own pitfalls.
How much time was wasted the last 5 years of my life? Can’t dwell on that now I suppose, because I can’t have that time back. I must fabricate escape plans… then… when the time is right, implement the largest most devious musical scheme ever conceived of and actually brought to fruition. This takes a lot of work. No one said it was easy. Hell, if life were easy, EVERYONE would be good at it.
Today I say “Happy Birthday” by putting the blinders back on. If there’s anger or angst or desperation, there’s no better way to handle it and keep it under control than by through the arts. Write a song about it, draw it…do SOMETHING that allows it never to manifest itself towards the limited amount of people I even let get close enough to me.
I never asked for this whole “prophet” job thing. Sure, the whole “rock star” thing is inviting, but this is so much larger than that. It’s leadership. It’s being a figurehead. It’s being a voice. Not just ANY voice. The voice of the people. Not just ANY people either, mind you. I must guide the sick and champion the weak. It was pointed out by an unemployed muse I know, that the dysfunctional, the broken, the downtrodden, the manic depressive, the self destructive, the sorrowful… THOSE are the people I’m to serve and protect like some ethereal police chief or better yet, a Robin Hood. To them, I am to be more than just a man. The established, the successful, the rich, the authoritative, bourgeois… those are my true enemies. When Tom Cruise says that no one should be prescribed prescription anti-depressants, he speaks with an arrogance he’s not qualified to have. Hell, at least I graduated High School. Personally, I believe there should be tighter restraints on the dispersion of anti-depressants, but I wouldn’t ban it. I think that just saying your depressed, should not win you the Willy Wacky Golden Ticket to free drugs. Kids get these drugs because their parents want the rest of the world and electronic gadgets to raid and baby-sit their children.
Ok…deep breath. It’s 3:30 am on my birthday. I don’t officially turn of age till about 8:37 am I believe, but no matter.
I had a small car accident today. I think that just added to my stress level. Angsting over whether this was another wasted birthday like last year. I’ll tell you one thing. I won’t go out and get happy pills. Let the truly disturbed get what they NEED. I will not do trendy things or get high “because I’m stressed”. That’s not for me. I will always find ways to “suck it up”. Let the true emotionally needy have them. Which means Rush Limbaugh should have been put out of his misery for his “abuse” scandal. I think I’m beginning to hate the rich. You see, I don’t want to be rich like them. I don’t even need to pack arenas. I just want people to listen to my tunes and take heed and solace. I want them to use my music like a self help pick me up to help cope. I’m not looking for adulation or recognition. It’s a job someone must do. Someone must take the world on its shoulders and hope Atlas truly does not shrug them off.
Happy Birthday to me. Or maybe I should say “Happy New Year!”
Posted by Darkstar at June 28, 2005 04:50 AM