This is only partially a “starving artist” post. Plato said necessity is the mother of invention. This is especially true of songwriters, it seems, since we all need something to write about. Without a hole somewhere, we wouldn’t be able to fill it. Music is something I create out of a struggle for something greater. Greater success, money, understanding, guidance, love… Without the hunger for whatever’s on the next shelf up, I wouldn’t be compelled to climb.

All that being said, being hungry in the literal sense just gets old. There is a point at which “starving artist” changes from cute moniker to annoying fact of life. A working musician faces 12-hour days with a schedule that extends to 2am on weekends, usually for very little money and no job security. To have some corporate schmuck with a regular commute, a 401k, and a 2-beer lunch break treat you like some lazy hippie gets discouraging. Sometimes I think it’s sour grapes- that their hunger for something artistic or expressive has simply made them bitter.

Hunger, literally, sucks. But a spiritual hunger has led to some of the best work I’ve ever produced. Latté Days & Porter Nights is all about hunger (well, actually, thirst, but same idea). Hunger is the road sign that only the café on the horizon can satisfy. It is what keeps you driving, even if it’s an all-nighter with the band sleeping in the seats behind you.

You all know one. They’re that guy or girl who’s really “out there”. Over the top, outspoken, flamboyant, and infamous are all on their resumé. They’re entertaining, to be sure, but is it something that’s genuine? Are they just really good at a particular act so they run with it?

I’m constantly wondering if I should shift my outward image to something more like a character and less like me. The Elton John with the funky sunglasses. The David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust. Prince as… well, whatever the hell’s been wrong with him for decades now. In a word, GWAR. All of them are icons, permanently embossed into our cultural history, but is it an organic process?

I guess my fear is that any image I try to maintain will seem contrived. At worse, if the image is successful, the legitimate personality inside begins to atrophy until all you have left is… well, you’ve seen Little Richard lately, right? On the other hand, will anyone even pay attention to someone who’s just… a nice guy?

Nice guys never win, that’s a fact of life. Well, except for Barack Obama.

It’s a very fine line to walk, and it works for some. Bowie launched a career of his own personality on the platform of Ziggy Stardust. Could I be that lucky if I tried my own image adjustment?

So should I pick up the mantle of space pirate captain or giant bird creature, re-tool my PR machinery to run with that 24/7, and save the real me for the quiet, private moments with my loved ones? It might be more entertaining, you never know.

Blizzard gets a kiss
Originally uploaded by RoninOtter.

One of my little room mates just passed away while I’ve been stranded out here on Block Island. Her name was Blizzard and she was adorable. Genetically. Seriously, they rub her onto other animals to make them cuter.

Of the little pack of weasels I live with, she was my favorite. Older than my car, blind as an NFL referee, and prone to sleeping in my hands from time to time. Much more laid-back than her sister, Badger, that’s for sure.

Zen Weasel 3
Originally uploaded by
RoninOtter.

So the sadness has obviously hit not only me but my housemate who owned her. He took these photos of us last year after I got off of Block Island.

I think I’ll always remember her like this- folded in half and snoozing whilst I meditate. I hope RoninOtter remembers her just the same- sweet, peaceful, and made of 100% pure cute.