Part 2. The secret of the Ooze
part 1
The downward spiral.
I could sit here and recount the rest of the story.
I could endeavor to explain in small detail how badly I played. How I was mistaken for a comedy act. How my closest friends told me never to sing again while they lived.
This is a memory I'd prefer not to re-tell - though believe me, I did try several times. The pain is strangely still too familiar. I think that was a wound that never will truly heal.
It was after that gig I decided to take myself a little more seriously. I started singing out loud to myself. I knew my parents were listening down the hall, but I somehow closed myself off to that.
I eventually formed a band where I sang, this time knowing I had a lot to learn, though it didn't seem to help me very much in progressing. Years passed, hair grew, and hormones sang.
Seshna - young Semi-God of Rock was becoming a man.
I ended up moving to Perth where I had a repertoire of dismal songs. For some reason, the crowd wouldn't weep with me. These songs to me really were some of the best I had written, and they were just boring people. Sure, there was the odd clap here, the 'well done' there, but nothing that made me feel accomplished.
This was about 2 and a half years ago.
Soon I began to believe that I was just no good at all. Everything I was writing was depressing, and the more I played and the more I saw how much people didn't like it, the more depressing my music got. It was a vicious cycle.
The problem I discovered at this point was, though I may not be very good at writing original music- I was a damn sight worse at everything else. I became a bartender and got fired. I became a salesman and got fired. I couldn't get a job working with computers because I had no degree at all.
Life at that point felt like I followed a one way road up a mountain only to find umptuous dead end signs. Can't go back. Can't go forward.
I had no idea that my musical direction was about to change for the rest of my life.
Miss Miyagi
I found my Miyagi one night when I was pulled out of hibernating by my twin brother into society again. I was ultimately depressed at this point, ready to announce the world that Seshna - semi-God of Rock was ready to enter the Halls of the Gods 7 years early.
Then, there in front of me, standing not much higher from the ground holding a glass of VB, was my new little guardian angel. Sent from above to instruct me the ways of the Rock Gods.
I didn't know it, I don't think she even knew it, but someone knew it.
As we met we started talking. Talking about me.
I talked about my ex-band, about my past brushes with fame. The conversation stayed on the subject of me pretty much all night. My listening ear then offered me a drink, so I graciously accepted - I needed it for fueling the subject of yours truly.
I don't deny or doubt for one moment that that night I was a conceited arse-knuckle. I felt no matter what I did I would do wrong anyway, so why try to do it right?
To cut the story a little shorter, we eventually started gettin' our thang on. It was then I was taught the mystery that was the windmill, and the effect of the rock beat on unsuspecting victims.
Through the aid of this little person, Seshna semi-God of Rock became Seshna, God of Rock. Then before I knew it, my physical appearance had somewhat changed.
The hair on my head (and chest) grew longer, in place of my smooth skinned face were two big meaty sideburns. My flower shirts and track-suit pants all disappeared, replaced by fitting retro jackets and flair jeans. Silver aviator glasses replaced my black Matrix-like eyewear. The change almost felt instant.
Whats more, people at gigs actually clapped. Clapped for me. People started shaking my hand, encouraging me. How was this possible?
Behind every army jacket, every thumpin' cowboy boot, every tight pair of flares and behind every windmill. Behind every 'aww yehh baby' and every massive rock song ending - stands a small person with a small knowing smile on her face, a small sense of satisfaction with a small critical eye. In her small hand she holds a glass of VB, forever ready to teach me more.
The downward spiral.
I could sit here and recount the rest of the story.
I could endeavor to explain in small detail how badly I played. How I was mistaken for a comedy act. How my closest friends told me never to sing again while they lived.
This is a memory I'd prefer not to re-tell - though believe me, I did try several times. The pain is strangely still too familiar. I think that was a wound that never will truly heal.
It was after that gig I decided to take myself a little more seriously. I started singing out loud to myself. I knew my parents were listening down the hall, but I somehow closed myself off to that.
I eventually formed a band where I sang, this time knowing I had a lot to learn, though it didn't seem to help me very much in progressing. Years passed, hair grew, and hormones sang.
Seshna - young Semi-God of Rock was becoming a man.
I ended up moving to Perth where I had a repertoire of dismal songs. For some reason, the crowd wouldn't weep with me. These songs to me really were some of the best I had written, and they were just boring people. Sure, there was the odd clap here, the 'well done' there, but nothing that made me feel accomplished.
This was about 2 and a half years ago.
Soon I began to believe that I was just no good at all. Everything I was writing was depressing, and the more I played and the more I saw how much people didn't like it, the more depressing my music got. It was a vicious cycle.
The problem I discovered at this point was, though I may not be very good at writing original music- I was a damn sight worse at everything else. I became a bartender and got fired. I became a salesman and got fired. I couldn't get a job working with computers because I had no degree at all.
Life at that point felt like I followed a one way road up a mountain only to find umptuous dead end signs. Can't go back. Can't go forward.
I had no idea that my musical direction was about to change for the rest of my life.
Miss Miyagi
I found my Miyagi one night when I was pulled out of hibernating by my twin brother into society again. I was ultimately depressed at this point, ready to announce the world that Seshna - semi-God of Rock was ready to enter the Halls of the Gods 7 years early.
Then, there in front of me, standing not much higher from the ground holding a glass of VB, was my new little guardian angel. Sent from above to instruct me the ways of the Rock Gods.
I didn't know it, I don't think she even knew it, but someone knew it.
As we met we started talking. Talking about me.
I talked about my ex-band, about my past brushes with fame. The conversation stayed on the subject of me pretty much all night. My listening ear then offered me a drink, so I graciously accepted - I needed it for fueling the subject of yours truly.
I don't deny or doubt for one moment that that night I was a conceited arse-knuckle. I felt no matter what I did I would do wrong anyway, so why try to do it right?
To cut the story a little shorter, we eventually started gettin' our thang on. It was then I was taught the mystery that was the windmill, and the effect of the rock beat on unsuspecting victims.Through the aid of this little person, Seshna semi-God of Rock became Seshna, God of Rock. Then before I knew it, my physical appearance had somewhat changed.
The hair on my head (and chest) grew longer, in place of my smooth skinned face were two big meaty sideburns. My flower shirts and track-suit pants all disappeared, replaced by fitting retro jackets and flair jeans. Silver aviator glasses replaced my black Matrix-like eyewear. The change almost felt instant.
Whats more, people at gigs actually clapped. Clapped for me. People started shaking my hand, encouraging me. How was this possible?
Behind every army jacket, every thumpin' cowboy boot, every tight pair of flares and behind every windmill. Behind every 'aww yehh baby' and every massive rock song ending - stands a small person with a small knowing smile on her face, a small sense of satisfaction with a small critical eye. In her small hand she holds a glass of VB, forever ready to teach me more.
