-Went to Seattle and then Portland, amongst more woodsy destinations, and while I didn't stay there long enough to really find anything out, I think I had one thing confirmed- Everywhere that's attractive to live as an artist, especially a performing artist, in terms of an educated populace with money to burn on art, is too expensive to live in for an artist, or on its way to being so. Not really groundbreaking, but a frustrating thing to have confirmed. All the interesting folks who I was going to try to meet and connect with in Oregon or Washington lived elsewhere than Portland or Seattle. Doesn't mean there aren't good or great artists in the big cities, as in Oakland or San Francisco, just that there are always good reasons for getting out. Good thing I'm a stone mason and not an artist, and thus am staying in Oakland and the Bay (where the rich are still building, and the builders are still milking them for all they can).
Second thing I'm stuck on is also a local concern that echoes (seemingly) everywhere. There's no money in poetry. This is not a news flash. Really, nothing you can do as a poet is to your advantage, except to the advantage of your immortal soul. Nevertheless, we all seem to constantly act like there's a market at work. We compete on calendars for attention to our events, compete for esteem amongst each other, and compete for the right to publish our work, which is really the ultimate comedy. We act as though there's a finite poetry dollar that we're all trying to get a piece of, except we all know damn well that there's no dollar. I'm sure anyone reading this is aware of this, but can we all also just cut this shit out already. It's embarrassing.
I'm at a post-performance lull in thinking on text and music, and thus haven't spent much time on the ideational continent lately, but I am back, sort of. I'm in Burney, California at the moment (google it, I dare you). I've attached a picture titled- how I spent my summer (non)vacation for your enjoyment.
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