This from ‘The Death of the Artist,’ (via @SorayaRoberts)
Anyone can easily market their own music, books, or films online, drum up a thousand true fans, and enjoy a decent living. We see proof of this, time and again, in profiles of bold creators who got tired of waiting to be chosen, took to the web, and saw their work go viral.
The artists tell another tale. Yes, you can produce and post your work more easily, but so can everyone else.
From the early 2000s until now, there has been no shortage of music, which is why there is no shortcut to getting your stuff out there. Unfortunately everything is stacked against the artist – rent, time, space, COVID-19. For every Marc Rebillet, there’s probably 1,000 artists who got two plays on YouTube today.
This is not some moral failing of the artist with two plays. The entire system is broken, art is de-valued, and oh yeah, almost 250,000 Americans are dead from a runaway virus.
I wrote about “Soft Running” a few days ago, and the idea has kept with me. Enough so to start a Substack newsletter for the idea, the concept. The idea behind the Soft Run Substack newsletter (sign up here) is to have it’s own home, a space, to explore the idea a bit more.
It’s been a weird time for running in 2020, especially if you’re just getting started. There’s no run groups, no local 5K races to join with your friends. So how do we get started, and keep going? That’s what I’m going to be writing about.
Just like soft running, sometimes you need a soft ride. I’ve been going hard these last few months, trying to lose weight, get faster, and all that other pretty fucking typical stuff. Then came a 10 mile trail race and I realized I didn’t have that much fun. It’s time to recalibrate.
Left the house and it was around 70 degrees, but sort of cool on the bike. I actually rode slow enough to be chilly; like, just riding so easy that I wasn’t really warming myself. It was a nice feeling. I slowed, looked deep into the woods, scanned the creeks, stopped to smell some pine trees.
Just like we can’t focus on work for 8+ hours, at least not in a healthy way, we can’t always workout hardcore either. I mean, if you’re young, cool! Do you! But it’s also nice to just switch it up.
Stop and smell the roses is cliche for a reason.
And I’ve discovered in my journey with outsourcing, there’s been some quiet time. There’s been moments in the day where shit is actually done, caught up. Nothing to do. It’s glorious, but also terrifying. It’s just not something I’m familiar with, having gone pretty much full tilt since 2018 when my Close Mondays operation really took off.
Tonight it felt unsettling to just get away on the bike, but it was absolutely everything I needed. The best ideas come in the shower, or those quiet moments just staring at the mountains.
Avoiding those moments isn’t advisable for me. I need to keep searching them out.
Reminded of this article after a long talk with a friend today:
We’re feeling a number of different griefs. We feel the world has changed, and it has. We know this is temporary, but it doesn’t feel that way, and we realize things will be different. Just as going to the airport is forever different from how it was before 9/11, things will change and this is the point at which they changed. The loss of normalcy; the fear of economic toll; the loss of connection. This is hitting us and we’re grieving. Collectively. We are not used to this kind of collective grief in the air.
That article is from March 23rd of 2020, which feels like a life-time ago. And how did anyone hit the nail on the head just a week after we started shutting things down?
We’re grieving the loss of normal, of safety, of security, of spontaneity. Stuff is upside down right now, and just keeping our head up is an act of defiance and bravery.
We no longer have a commute. We don’t have shows, or dinners, or meet ups like we used to, to break up our days. Our weeks. The day to day is stuck on loop. Like the Groundhog Day movie, but way darker because it’s happening in real life, and the ending credits are nowhere to be seen.
Today I remembered going into the city. Driving to the bus station, the two hour bus ride, walking out of Port Authority Bus Terminal and seeing the NYTimes building. I fired up Google Maps street view just to remember what that was like. I strolled down the street, heading east to Bryant Park. Dammit I miss Bryant Park.
I miss being able to meet up with friends at shows, and all the talks and adventure that place before the doors even open. Late night drives home, and everything they reveal.
This year has stripped a lot of the possibilities away. Great conversations are still happening, and the random hangs with select folks, but still, this shit is hard.
Close that laptop and go for a long walk, run, dance, whatever. Move your bones, emails can wait.
I went through some dark harrowing times in 2014, 2015; broke as fuck, closed bank account, no steady work. Long walks helped save my ass (along with wonderful friends). Note that I’m not saying JUST GET OUTSIDE! DEPRESSION ISN’T REAL. Fuck that noise.
You can only answer so many emails, check off so many tasks. Eventually you’re making mistakes, resentment swells. Just get away. Law of diminishing returns. You’re not gonna remember those three things on your to-do list that you cleared on a Thursday night. Not compared to some walk where you might run into a great dog or two, or a gorgeous sun set.
Some days hurt, some days you float. This was a nice six miles around the Trexlertown Nature Preserve, on a new route I’ve never done before. Started off chilly and breezy, and saw a woman modeling with antlers in the woods, so all in all a great run.
The thing about trail running is it’s time in the woods, which I cherish. Lately I’ve been taking it slow and easy, which just means more time in the woods, so it’s a win win all around. I keep reminding myself that I’m not racing, I’m just out in nature. So when it hurts, slow down. Walk. Take a photo (or two).
Some days I just don’t feel like a hard run. I don’t feel tough, or strong. I just want to be… soft.
I want to stop and take photos. I want to kick up pine needles so I can breathe in that wonderful smell. I want to just, stop, and appreciate the clouds and the sky.
Soft running.
A lot of times I just want to be in nature, but a little faster than walking. A shuffle, a jog, and that’s okay. Every run is not a race, and every run doesn’t have to be training. A run, like a walk, can be just because.
Hotels are amazing. They can be like little landing pads for wherever you are in life, with no judgement. There’s coffee, internet, big beds, and (usually) well lit bathrooms with plenty of towels.
It’s odd – I never thought of checking into a hotel during this time of COVID, but the prospect has me thinking.
“Sometimes to fall apart, sometimes just to reset. Phone off, food, quiet, movies, books. Just myself.”
However these things happen, they just happen. Some are low impact, or not even noticeable, but wow, this instance my attention.
I had already gone out for a run earlier in the day, but a new pair of shoes came in the mail, and I needed to break them in. A short evening walk turned into something magical.
