Musical Chairs
As it turns out, musical chairs is not just a game, it's actually a training ground for life. Otherwise, you might not realize the music can stop at any time, and you better be prepared to dive for a chair. If you're late, not paying attention or, say, dancing - and you're left standing, you're out of the game. Opposite of a cakewalk.
I saw a man in our village recently who's out of the game. He lost a $150,000/year business by trying to be all things to all people, and when he announced he was closing, people stopped coming like it was the House of the Red Death. I hear he's not well. I see him riding around town on his bike, hair wild, no more pretenses, cut loose.
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, my children's fierce paternal great-grandmother, who was raised on the South Dakota freezing prairie by a German father with a long beard and longer cane, saved the church socials all through the Depression by buying a 50-pound bag of sugar at an opportune moment. I just want to say, now feels like an opportune moment to buy a 50-pound bag of sugar, and a 50-pound bag of flour, too, and perhaps flout the local zoning laws with a small flock of backyard chickens (hens only).
Wet-your-pants hilarious pop culture zine publisher Lance Laurie says if he had a dime for every artist whining to him about not being able to make ends meet, he could build a theme park in Chelsea. Can you keep making art now? Can you keep making art, even though you have to decamp to a Hooverville on City Island, and knit your own socks by hobo campfire? If you can, you stand a good chance of coming out ahead when the music starts again. So chin up.
I saw a man in our village recently who's out of the game. He lost a $150,000/year business by trying to be all things to all people, and when he announced he was closing, people stopped coming like it was the House of the Red Death. I hear he's not well. I see him riding around town on his bike, hair wild, no more pretenses, cut loose.
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, my children's fierce paternal great-grandmother, who was raised on the South Dakota freezing prairie by a German father with a long beard and longer cane, saved the church socials all through the Depression by buying a 50-pound bag of sugar at an opportune moment. I just want to say, now feels like an opportune moment to buy a 50-pound bag of sugar, and a 50-pound bag of flour, too, and perhaps flout the local zoning laws with a small flock of backyard chickens (hens only).
Wet-your-pants hilarious pop culture zine publisher Lance Laurie says if he had a dime for every artist whining to him about not being able to make ends meet, he could build a theme park in Chelsea. Can you keep making art now? Can you keep making art, even though you have to decamp to a Hooverville on City Island, and knit your own socks by hobo campfire? If you can, you stand a good chance of coming out ahead when the music starts again. So chin up.
posted by robyn perry at 9:24 PM
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