The Truth, The Whole Truth & Nothing But the Truth, So Help Me Blog...
I thought it might be time to put my guitar down for a minute, take off my traveling shoes and sit silently for a few moments of reflection. Time to think. It has been a few years since I stepped away from the trees to get a view of the forest (pun intended). The last time I can recall living a more "normal" existence would be...(This is where the television screen starts to spin counterclockwise and the colors swirl as if the picture is being sucked into a whirlpool). I can look back and picture myself crawling along the gridlocked expressway from the Beverly Hills neighborhood (that's in Chicago folks, it's the absolute exact opposite of the Beverly Hills we all know in L.A. Think blue collar, Budweiser beer, Irish day parade and the residence of a lot of Chicago cops). I'm headed to the "Loop" in downtown Chicago in my 1997 Beige Toyota Camry and I'm getting tense because I arrive late no matter how early I leave home.
I got a coffee with fake sugar and non-fat milk in one hand and a whole-wheat bagel with non-fat crème cheese in my other hand. I lived with the Kourelis brothers for years and had been sensitized to fear fat, calories, sugar, salt and anything else that tasted good. We were ridiculous in that we would tarnish from existence anything in the refrigerator that wasn't boneless, skinless, low-carb, no salt added, msg-free or low calorie. Then, after we went out and drank 12 beers (light beer of course) we would come home at 4 am and eat burritos, pizza, ice cream and cake. We would gorge. It was a ridiculously convoluted food pyramid.
Back to the story at hand… Finally arriving at work I pull into one of the last remaining parking spots at the far end of the lot. I have my cell phone lodged between my left ear and collarbone as I'm listening in on a conference call and pretending to be sitting behind my desk taking notes. All the while trying not to let them know I am late...Again...I take one step out of the car with my seatbelt unknowingly wrapped around my left arm and BAM! My body slams to the pavement. This is the result of a phenomenon similar to that of placing a baseball bat on the ground, placing your head to the handle and spinning around in circles for a minute and then trying to walk. I have been craning my neck for at least 35 minutes with the phone lodged to my ear and all sense of balance was skewed to the left. Catching my arm in the seat belt brought me to the tipping point. I hit hard with my hands to the side and no chance to break my fall. My phone scrapes along the pavement and I luckily catch my yell before it escapes my lungs. I scurry to grab the phone and the line is silent. I see that I am still connected to the call. I choke up an un-assured "excuse me" and no questions are asked. Their conversation ensues. I attempt to re-lodge the phone between my collarbone and road-rashed left ear but my ear stings. I switch ears crane my neck to the right. Probably good to switch it up so I can recalibrate some sort of balance. I try to catch up on the conversation so I can throw in an um-hmm, of course or I agree. I pick up my bag and head over to the office. I lose the phone connection while in the elevator somewhere around the 10th floor. I don't call back when I make it to my office. I drop my bag and coat on the floor and I look out the window and stare at US Cellular Field off in the distance. For the first time on this job I have this underwhelming feeling of "What am I doing here?"
I had a private office (I was the only employee at this time in the Chicago satellite office) and had the honor of ordering the furniture, artwork and plastic plants to "beautify" the office space. No matter how I arranged the office, the big wigs from New York would come and tell me to re-arrange the furniture to their liking. I guess a comfortable feel is not very business-like. All couches are to be set at perfect angles and a Chicago magazine on the table is to market specific. I was advised to "Order the Wall Street Journal". I said I would try to think outside the box next time but the fact is I worked inside a box. Four blank vanilla walls, the stagnation of thought creation. I never had a good come back for them regarding the office layout. I'm usually cleavery sarcastic to the point where you don't know if I am being sincere or mocking. But, it's like when you know someone is watching you walk and all the sudden you forget how to walk. You get an immediate limp and your left foot drags along. All of the sudden, just like that, you can't walk normal. It's the definition of self-conscience.
The satellite office that I ran had NO work. Nada. None. I was an appraiser and in order to get work a real estate broker would have to set-up some deals. So, until then, I was told to wait and get ready for the eventual flood of work. At first this was nice. I would surf the Internet looking for old articles and videos from 80's bands (Crue, GnR, VH, Prince, SRV, Accept, etc). I'd have my shoes and socks off and my feet lounging on the desk. I would leave the blinds open cause I figured at least one of the thousand workers in the neighboring office windows would look out and see me and be like, "Damn, that guys got it made". Time started to flow cryptically slow at the satellite office. 9 to 5 felt like spring clear thru to fall. Time flowed so slow it was eerie. I brought in my guitar to pass some time, I bounced a ball against the wall, I Googled distant friends from high school. As it turns out, Ian Rodzilski has written a number of collegiate math books and I sent him a message congratulating him. Like I said, I had WAY too much time on my hands.
Around November 2004, in walks Mr. Bronson, a big time real estate broker that has been brought in by the big-dogs from New York City headquarters to bring some business to the office. I was definitely bored to tears and was glad to hear that we might get some work to do. He was a smart guy and he spoke like he knew what he was talking about. There was lots of talk about interest rates, capitalization, market values and yadda yadda yadda. He never sat still and he made a lot of big statements like "We are going to have a record year once we get things in motion". I responded in agreement and followed it up thinking "We have no record so it should be easy to beat". Things were looking up. Lots of the employees from New York were coming in and we were going to big lunches and we were definitely setting records for jacking up the company expense account. I was happy to come along for the ride and eat at nice restaurants and drink expensive scotch and bourbon and smoke Macanudo cigars. I figured these are the things that bankers do. I tried to play the part all the while feeling out of place with little in common with my peers from NYC.
After a few weeks work started to pickup a little bit and I thought we finally got the ball rolling. One Monday morning Mr. Bronson never showed up for work. He died in his sleep. He was 45 years old. I was stunned and deeply saddened. I just saw him on Friday. He appeared pretty healthy. In thinking back, he did have a noticeable twitch in his right eye. I mentioned to him at lunch one day that his eye was twitching a lot. He said it was from staring at the computer screen so much and the inherent stress of being a broker. Thinking back, I think I missed an indicator of a heart reaching out and saying SOS in some sort of pulmonary Morse Code.
So once again business was dead (literally). Mr. Bronson's passing kick-started my mind into thinking about life and what was really important to me. He had no kids and I think he was divorced. He made a lot of money in his lifetime but at this point that did not seem to matter at all. I started thinking about the dream that I was on the verge of giving up. My childhood friends and I had tried for 10 years to rule the world with our high-energy rock n roll circus. We had our sights set on world domination. It sounds like such an unattainable and corny battle cry, but we believed it. I don't know if we were naive enough or if we were bold enough but we put everything we had into the band. We never made a penny from all the sold-out shows and thousands of albums the Lovehammers sold. We put it all back into the dream. We had sacrificed a lot and now it seemed that I had jumped ship and ended up caught up in my fall back career as a banker. I was making a solid salary and had all the benefits and perks. None of that really carried much weight within me. I felt that there was a lot I had left to do with music. I was living the back-up plan. Plan B didn't feel right to me. I was stuck.
I had started this job in October and by January two new employees were buzzing about in the office with nothing to do. They were as bored and disillusioned with their lives as I was mine. Personally I never imagined that this would be my life.
There has got to be something better out there for me. I have got to make something happen.
On February 3rd, 2005, I was in my office checking my emails. An email popped up that said:
Subject: INXS-Lead Singer Auditions-CHICAGO
INXS, the multi-platinum international Rock band is looking for their next lead singer. Mark Burnett Productions, the creator of Survivor and The Apprentice has created a new reality TV series on CBS that will give singers and songwriters the opportunity to become the next lead singer of INXS. We are looking for Men and Women of all styles that are ages 21 and up. Audition will be asked to perform up to 3 songs (INXS songs are NOT required.) They may perform to a CD track (w/ no vocal) or with 1 musical instrument.
Auditions will be held in:
CHICAGO
On 2/6/05- Open Call (At Schuba's Tavern) On 2/7/05- Invite Only/Industry Referrals To schedule an audition or for more information, contact:
P**** ****n
Talent Producer
www.INXSrockstar.com
Audition cities:
Atlanta, GA - 1/20/05
Orlando, FL - 1/22
Charlotte, NC- 1/25
Nashville, TN- 1/27
New York, NY- 1/30
Minneapolis,MN- 2/1
Toronto, ON - 2/4
Chicago, IL- 2/6
Boston, MA- 2/9
Omaha, NE- 2/11
New Orleans,LA- 2/14
Austin, TX- 2/16
Seattle, WA- 2/19
Los Angeles,CA- 2/25
London, England -2/8
Sydney, Australia -TBD
To be continued… Marty Casey
I got a coffee with fake sugar and non-fat milk in one hand and a whole-wheat bagel with non-fat crème cheese in my other hand. I lived with the Kourelis brothers for years and had been sensitized to fear fat, calories, sugar, salt and anything else that tasted good. We were ridiculous in that we would tarnish from existence anything in the refrigerator that wasn't boneless, skinless, low-carb, no salt added, msg-free or low calorie. Then, after we went out and drank 12 beers (light beer of course) we would come home at 4 am and eat burritos, pizza, ice cream and cake. We would gorge. It was a ridiculously convoluted food pyramid.
Back to the story at hand… Finally arriving at work I pull into one of the last remaining parking spots at the far end of the lot. I have my cell phone lodged between my left ear and collarbone as I'm listening in on a conference call and pretending to be sitting behind my desk taking notes. All the while trying not to let them know I am late...Again...I take one step out of the car with my seatbelt unknowingly wrapped around my left arm and BAM! My body slams to the pavement. This is the result of a phenomenon similar to that of placing a baseball bat on the ground, placing your head to the handle and spinning around in circles for a minute and then trying to walk. I have been craning my neck for at least 35 minutes with the phone lodged to my ear and all sense of balance was skewed to the left. Catching my arm in the seat belt brought me to the tipping point. I hit hard with my hands to the side and no chance to break my fall. My phone scrapes along the pavement and I luckily catch my yell before it escapes my lungs. I scurry to grab the phone and the line is silent. I see that I am still connected to the call. I choke up an un-assured "excuse me" and no questions are asked. Their conversation ensues. I attempt to re-lodge the phone between my collarbone and road-rashed left ear but my ear stings. I switch ears crane my neck to the right. Probably good to switch it up so I can recalibrate some sort of balance. I try to catch up on the conversation so I can throw in an um-hmm, of course or I agree. I pick up my bag and head over to the office. I lose the phone connection while in the elevator somewhere around the 10th floor. I don't call back when I make it to my office. I drop my bag and coat on the floor and I look out the window and stare at US Cellular Field off in the distance. For the first time on this job I have this underwhelming feeling of "What am I doing here?"
I had a private office (I was the only employee at this time in the Chicago satellite office) and had the honor of ordering the furniture, artwork and plastic plants to "beautify" the office space. No matter how I arranged the office, the big wigs from New York would come and tell me to re-arrange the furniture to their liking. I guess a comfortable feel is not very business-like. All couches are to be set at perfect angles and a Chicago magazine on the table is to market specific. I was advised to "Order the Wall Street Journal". I said I would try to think outside the box next time but the fact is I worked inside a box. Four blank vanilla walls, the stagnation of thought creation. I never had a good come back for them regarding the office layout. I'm usually cleavery sarcastic to the point where you don't know if I am being sincere or mocking. But, it's like when you know someone is watching you walk and all the sudden you forget how to walk. You get an immediate limp and your left foot drags along. All of the sudden, just like that, you can't walk normal. It's the definition of self-conscience.
The satellite office that I ran had NO work. Nada. None. I was an appraiser and in order to get work a real estate broker would have to set-up some deals. So, until then, I was told to wait and get ready for the eventual flood of work. At first this was nice. I would surf the Internet looking for old articles and videos from 80's bands (Crue, GnR, VH, Prince, SRV, Accept, etc). I'd have my shoes and socks off and my feet lounging on the desk. I would leave the blinds open cause I figured at least one of the thousand workers in the neighboring office windows would look out and see me and be like, "Damn, that guys got it made". Time started to flow cryptically slow at the satellite office. 9 to 5 felt like spring clear thru to fall. Time flowed so slow it was eerie. I brought in my guitar to pass some time, I bounced a ball against the wall, I Googled distant friends from high school. As it turns out, Ian Rodzilski has written a number of collegiate math books and I sent him a message congratulating him. Like I said, I had WAY too much time on my hands.
Around November 2004, in walks Mr. Bronson, a big time real estate broker that has been brought in by the big-dogs from New York City headquarters to bring some business to the office. I was definitely bored to tears and was glad to hear that we might get some work to do. He was a smart guy and he spoke like he knew what he was talking about. There was lots of talk about interest rates, capitalization, market values and yadda yadda yadda. He never sat still and he made a lot of big statements like "We are going to have a record year once we get things in motion". I responded in agreement and followed it up thinking "We have no record so it should be easy to beat". Things were looking up. Lots of the employees from New York were coming in and we were going to big lunches and we were definitely setting records for jacking up the company expense account. I was happy to come along for the ride and eat at nice restaurants and drink expensive scotch and bourbon and smoke Macanudo cigars. I figured these are the things that bankers do. I tried to play the part all the while feeling out of place with little in common with my peers from NYC.
After a few weeks work started to pickup a little bit and I thought we finally got the ball rolling. One Monday morning Mr. Bronson never showed up for work. He died in his sleep. He was 45 years old. I was stunned and deeply saddened. I just saw him on Friday. He appeared pretty healthy. In thinking back, he did have a noticeable twitch in his right eye. I mentioned to him at lunch one day that his eye was twitching a lot. He said it was from staring at the computer screen so much and the inherent stress of being a broker. Thinking back, I think I missed an indicator of a heart reaching out and saying SOS in some sort of pulmonary Morse Code.
So once again business was dead (literally). Mr. Bronson's passing kick-started my mind into thinking about life and what was really important to me. He had no kids and I think he was divorced. He made a lot of money in his lifetime but at this point that did not seem to matter at all. I started thinking about the dream that I was on the verge of giving up. My childhood friends and I had tried for 10 years to rule the world with our high-energy rock n roll circus. We had our sights set on world domination. It sounds like such an unattainable and corny battle cry, but we believed it. I don't know if we were naive enough or if we were bold enough but we put everything we had into the band. We never made a penny from all the sold-out shows and thousands of albums the Lovehammers sold. We put it all back into the dream. We had sacrificed a lot and now it seemed that I had jumped ship and ended up caught up in my fall back career as a banker. I was making a solid salary and had all the benefits and perks. None of that really carried much weight within me. I felt that there was a lot I had left to do with music. I was living the back-up plan. Plan B didn't feel right to me. I was stuck.
I had started this job in October and by January two new employees were buzzing about in the office with nothing to do. They were as bored and disillusioned with their lives as I was mine. Personally I never imagined that this would be my life.
There has got to be something better out there for me. I have got to make something happen.
On February 3rd, 2005, I was in my office checking my emails. An email popped up that said:
Subject: INXS-Lead Singer Auditions-CHICAGO
INXS, the multi-platinum international Rock band is looking for their next lead singer. Mark Burnett Productions, the creator of Survivor and The Apprentice has created a new reality TV series on CBS that will give singers and songwriters the opportunity to become the next lead singer of INXS. We are looking for Men and Women of all styles that are ages 21 and up. Audition will be asked to perform up to 3 songs (INXS songs are NOT required.) They may perform to a CD track (w/ no vocal) or with 1 musical instrument.
Auditions will be held in:
CHICAGO
On 2/6/05- Open Call (At Schuba's Tavern) On 2/7/05- Invite Only/Industry Referrals To schedule an audition or for more information, contact:
P**** ****n
Talent Producer
www.INXSrockstar.com
Audition cities:
Atlanta, GA - 1/20/05
Orlando, FL - 1/22
Charlotte, NC- 1/25
Nashville, TN- 1/27
New York, NY- 1/30
Minneapolis,MN- 2/1
Toronto, ON - 2/4
Chicago, IL- 2/6
Boston, MA- 2/9
Omaha, NE- 2/11
New Orleans,LA- 2/14
Austin, TX- 2/16
Seattle, WA- 2/19
Los Angeles,CA- 2/25
London, England -2/8
Sydney, Australia -TBD
To be continued… Marty Casey
posted by Marty Casey at 9:53 AM
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