The Fast and the Fiverrous

[damooch916]

Blood is a terrible substance to spill on your piano. Whereas beer is thin, easily wiped away and fairly unnoticeable to pound your hands over - blood stays. In almost no time it colors everything it touches. It’s thick and feels harder by the second. It molds itself like Play-doh, it oozes between the keys and leaves your fingers searching for answers - like a blind man reading gibberish in braille. 

 

For reasons that I have been counseled to never speak about publicly, I’ve had the wretched experience of performing the piano through blood on numerous occasions. Mine and other’s. 

 

The trick is to not wipe it dry. You want to use your left hand to grab a rag, place it over your nearest full cup, toss the cup over “rag side bottom,” place the cup back and use the cloth as dilution. Otherwise, you’ll be hunting chops all while caked in “Southern red” mud. 

 

And if you’re a damned professional - you’ll use that right hand to keep playing. This act has gained me more than one standing ovation. 

 

                         “Rawhide”

 

“Look. I just need you to make the chorus stupider.”

 

I reread the message.

 

Over and over. 

 

Until my eyes refused to blink and dust had shuttered the sockets causing visible pink cracks to shred the whites of the sphere.

 

“Stupider.” I repeated in a dumb murmur. 

 

The client’s request seemed unimaginable. Even in a downturn economy. Even at a time where freelancers across the globe have been suffering low close ratios, lower client potentiality and are woefully ignoring “bad customer” signs that usually send our hair to a fine point tingle.

 

This is the new reality. And depending on worldly implications and shadowy forces, it may be the reality for a good long while. 

 

The waters are dry hoss - and you’re in no position to complain about the taste when the rain comes. 

 

“Listen,” I finally began in reply - “you slow-witted, banana mouthed, teeth licker: the chorus I sent to you was plenty stupid. I pride myself on stupid choruses. I’ve been in this gnarled business since the age of four. I’ve witnessed far more stupid, far more deranged and far more perverse sights than you can scrape together in corners of the internet so dark that the mere act of considering them can draw satellite attention. Don’t you tell me about stupid. My entire living is encrusted with stupid. I’m essentially the genealogical apex of songwriting’s long-standing tradition of stupid, while living in the stupidest time in the history of the sport, writing the stupidest songs and for the stupidest audience. And I’m utterly offended at the notion that anything I write, set to any melody, would ever be considered anything other than trite, bubblegum, intellectually devoid and tremendously stupid. 

 

Good day sir. I said good day!” 

 

Sent. 

 

That oughta show ‘em.

 

I lifted my coffee carefully from its coaster and sipped at my computer desk in a quiet triumph. Then …

… Suddenly a panic loomed over me. What had I done? Had I really went heels in one of the worst freelancing collapses we’ve ever faced? Was I truly waging righteous wars - while the at-home work force bent themselves like trees in a hurricane to appease every lunatic willing to give them a gig? Was I no longer the roll-with-the-punches musician of my youth … able to withstand the highs of showcase festivals and willing to give everything to some dank biker joint while performing behind chicken wire? 

 

Have I become … too virtuous? 

 

 

   “Everybody, Needs somebody to love …”

 

Whether it’s bloodied piano keys, strange clients or cracking economies - in freelancing, we’re always one strong wind away from falling off the wire. Freelancers may not be born to the calling - after all, many successful freelancers are victims of happenstance - while many other skilled creatives never learn to swing the ropes - but certainly the spirit of the freelancer is more ethereal than not. What’s to be said about a person who knowingly leaves the smooth waters to head into a violent tide? What sickness has to afflict your swarming brain in order to actually believe that you are more qualified to tell yourself what to do than someone far more experienced? What gross addiction is at play that causes otherwise intelligent people to deny cushy corporate packages and pre-wrapped delicacies, all to weather a storm that may never cease, ever? 

 

And what thrill could possibly be more exquisite than actually being right? 

 

That’s a gamble that far more people are willing to take in today’s world. And the numbers work against us - as the number of us continue to strengthen. An estimated 52 percent of freelancers began their long journey to the computer chair due to - or since - the pandemic. That statistic suggests that over half of your competition is new meat, still wobbling on the fresh legs of self-reliance and doing anything it requires to pry your customer from your cold, aging hands. Couple that with the threat of recession and suddenly you’ve got a truly perverted pricing system of “how low can you go?”

 

But that’s not the truly horrifying part. 

 

The nightmare we face now - in this terrible confluence of low money and less work - is that customers know it. 

 

Meeting a skilled freelance client is like meeting your father in law for the first time: He hopes you get it right, but he also has no problem with sticking the knife in. Clients love fear. They absorb it. Some freelance clients can grow upwards to ten feet on a steady diet of “seller whimpers and fear” alone. They lower their body temperatures to a fraction above death, stand barely breathing and patiently wait for the slightest sign of your tiniest weakness. Then they pounce. Fully. With wide mouths and razored fangs. And if the impact doesn’t take you - the stomach acid will. 

 

Once you’ve demonstrated fear to your client, there will be no surviving. 

 

In this atmosphere - you only have one alternative: to embrace the crazy. Yours and theirs. If ever you were going to lavish the “problem client” with praise and additives, well sailor, now’s the time. If ever you thought to launch major ships - now is the moment. While everyone stands idle, petrified by the dread and overwhelmed by reports of freelancers spontaneously combusting in the Midwest - it’s your mission to think in terms of pure, unfiltered, uncut “otherness.”

 

Ask yourself, “who has the money to buy my services regardless of the state of the world?” 

 

And then ask, “What is it that a client like that would most want from my service?” 

 

And while you’re at it ask “What would an impervious client pay for quality of their own class?” 

 

And since we’re talking, you might also ask “And what’s the situation with coffee warmers … doesn’t that overcook the coffee? Isn’t it part of the game to drink the coffee as fast as possible, in order to have more coffee?” 

 

All very important questions indeed. 

 

 “She caught the Katy and left me a mule to ride…”

 

“Dear chorus lover…”

 

The words hovered on my giant computer screen like an open challenge. 

 

Crafting the perfect apology letter isn’t like other forms of writing. Logic and functionality aren’t necessarily your friends. There can’t be too much groveling, lest you come across as insincere. You also can’t attempt to reason - otherwise you may find yourself in a fit of justification. The words have to roll out. Unfold in a sort of clumsy authenticity and above all else - you must be gentle. 

 

“… Dumb-headed as you might be,” I continued,  “I recognize that you’ve come to me for aide. Based on that dribble you call lyrics, it’s clear that you're making the right call. You asked me to help “rewrite.” But you seemed dissatisfied when my “help” included the total removal of your pedestrian goop.
 

 Due to reasons beyond my control, I was forced to become stern - and I rejected the request to revise these materials to your apparently evolving preferences. In this matter, I was given little choice.

 

You see, recently I was abducted by a small, but extremely crafty, band of political radicals. It was an obviously pre-planned and well executed plot. They slipped passed two dogs, a gate and three grade school boys, so hypnotized by their video games that they probably mistook the criminals for their parents. 

 

I’m not ashamed to tell you - these bonker brained revolutionaries organized my vicious abduction purely out of hatred for my giving to charity, my work with underprivileged children and my selfless time given to the elderly. I’m extremely giving and the best at being humble that ever lived. 

 

Radicals hate the elderly. According to Pepe - the unofficial leader of the group - it’s the smell. 

 

Anyways. The crazed intruders made many demands. They wanted a full page letter denouncing sick kids. They insisted that I write filthy comments on “family” websites. The forced me, against my will, to listen to post 80’s “Bon Jovi.” The loonies then had me write positive comments on “unwrapping” videos. They even asked for a scathing paragraph on DC movies and its harmful effects on the human brain … luckily, I had that one on my desktop already. 

 

That brings me to you. 

 

Seeing your request, the bandits forced me to deny you a new chorus and instructed me to lecture you in a cold manner. Fearing for both my life and that my coffee may go cold, I obliged. Then - we filed out the door, into an unmarked van and off to a pleasant little compound in the country. 

 

I won’t pretend not to have enjoyed the rest. Radicals are terrible dressers but amazing grocery shoppers. The refrigerator was jammed full with every frozen food item imaginable. They also had one of those extra fast air fryers. Amazing what an air fryer can do for a store bought pizza. It was this adoration for their fine food choices that loosened their attitudes toward me. But their faith in my food appreciation ran a little too high. As soon as I was given access to my hands and feet - I thrashed the radicals and promptly returned home. 

 

FYI, those coffee warmers actually work. 

 

And that brings me to now. Sure. I’d love to make your chorus stupider. It’s absolutely the right call. I’ll begin right away. 

 

Thanks for understanding.”

 

Sent. 
 

  “Hey Folks here’s a story ‘bout Minnie the moocher…” 

 

In these strange times, pickiness will not serve you. Each client must be treated like your “make or break” audition. But knee bended bowing isn’t enough. Because someone, somewhere will get rich from this experience. There’s an idea out-there that applies to you. It’s a big idea. Full of hope and terror. Chaos and epiphany. It’s yours to discover and the results might change everything. 

 

Someone is going to succeed. Not later, now. And not despite the economic fright - but because of it. 

 

While others will grip tightly and do nothing. 

 

Until the blood runs from their silhouette and colors everything. 

Until the keys begin to clog and the notes become a circus noise of frequency and doom. 

Until the music abruptly stops - and suddenly - your show is over. 
 

Maybe it’s time to wipe the keys skippy. That is, as long as you can play all the way through it. Otherwise - you might just lose your place. 

[damooch916]

Oh. Look everyone. I found it! The line between acceptably long forum content and gaudy thread dreck.

Then I crossed it.

Then I kept going.

Then I purchased property and announced myself as mayor. 

[vickiespencer]

I read every word of your post. I found many sentence phrases and paragraphs that begged me to reply or comment. However first, I wanted to finish your whole novella. When I did, my mind has been pulled in so many directions that I was too overwhelmed to comment.  

[damooch916]

1 hour ago, vickiespencer said:

I read every word of your post. I found many sentence phrases and paragraphs that begged me to reply or comment. However first, I wanted to finish your whole novella. When I did, my mind has been pulled in so many directions that I was too overwhelmed to comment.  

There’s a multidimensional approach being used. I’m purposefully yanking you from true and false realities without warning. But as a singular concept - every section is discussing the same subject: the present and looming sales crisis and our responsibility to acclimate or behave drastically. I’m more interested in the heightened reality and portraying the daydreams of our collective anxiousness, than I am in repeating our very real concern. 

I’m aware that this particular material - the long form, gonzo, surreal stories with moral centers - don’t particularly play well here. There will be time for funny thoughts and silly lists on another day. I’m expressing my concern and my experience and doing so in a way that will file down the readers to the people I’m really sharing this shaky ground with. That’s you. That’s cat. That’s Breals. Etc, etc. Right now, all of our worries are a little esoteric. A little unnamed. A bit daydreamish. A fugue. We don’t know what we’re looking at. Not fully.

And that’s precisely what I’m expressing: we may be in a nightmare, but we’ll wake from it. Especially us.

Also … there are far more true stories, real events and actual beliefs in that faux article than I care to admit. It’s a more true story than not.
 

Even the hopeful bits. 

[sunboatrecords]

Many of us needed to read something like this. Great timing.

 

16 hours ago, damooch916 said:

And that brings me to now. Sure. I’d love to make your chorus stupider. It’s absolutely the right call. I’ll begin right away. 

 

Thanks for understanding.”

 

That was my favorite part. After hundreds or thousands of orders, you start looking at the screen indifferently when you get a message like that. Our eyes secretly fixating on the $ showing next to the message or what's at the top right of the dashboard.

"Thank you for your feedback... I will be happy to..."

We all know the deal.

[miiila]

Just commenting to say that, browsing the forum on my phone, and not able to see any indication of this being the King's topic (an un-thing in itself, there should be a 👑 or coffee 🫘 symbol), just by looking at the title, I would have bet a hard-earned fiver on it, without even reserving the right of a revision or chargeback or bad private feedback of the topic, had it been not.

[smashradio]

20 hours ago, damooch916 said:

In these strange times, pickiness will not serve you. Each client must be treated like your “make or break” audition. But knee bended bowing isn’t enough. Because someone, somewhere will get rich from this experience. There’s an idea out-there that applies to you. It’s a big idea. Full of hope and terror. Chaos and epiphany. It’s yours to discover and the results might change everything. 

Someone is going to succeed. Not later, now. And not despite the economic fright - but because of it. 

While others will grip tightly and do nothing. 

Wise words. 

I respectfully disagree with you about the coffee warmers. Your devil-may-care approach to coffee disturbs me deeply. 

I just got this, to help me stay sane. Time (and good coffee) is of the essence. 

Edited April 12, 2023 by smashradio

[melanielm]

I'm not sure if I'm depressed or invigorated now. What I do know is that Livin' on a Prayer and scat singing don't really go together. Probably get stuck in my head anyway. At least it will drown out the worry for a little while.

[damooch916]

28 minutes ago, smashradio said:

Your devil-may-care approach to coffee disturbs me deeply

But meanwhile - in the cave of reality that is my actual life - I spend a tremendous amount of time, every day, standing at the aeropress and the nano press, grinding fresh cups per each session and brewing coffee through a drip process.

Never call my coffee credibility into question. Slander my art. Rip away my integrity. Question if there even is a Mooch … some self described body building, human condition researching, psych-junkie that enjoys retro pro wrestling through the framework of Carl Jung’s work on the “shadow self …” That doesn’t even sound like a real person. That sounds like the cool neighbor in a family sitcom. 
 

But never, NEVER call my coffee cred into question.

You broke my heart, Fredo. 

[smashradio]

6 hours ago, damooch916 said:

But never, NEVER call my coffee cred into question.

You broke my heart, Fredo. 

I realize now that, in a moment of levity, I was hasty in my judgment of your refined taste and unwavering passion for the divine elixir that is coffee. It was a thoughtless transgression on my part. I do not doubt that you always will be the better connoisseur and a true aficionado in your pursuit of the perfect brew. Please allow me to make amends by inviting you to share a cup of this fine beverage with me, hoping that our shared passion for the bean of creativity can mend the rift my careless words have caused.

Yours truly,

Fredo