Some of you are probably wondering why I haven't published a book in 5 years, despite the fact that I have a number of projects in the works. The primary reason is I simply haven't had the time.
But there's also the fact that the publishing world is is going through some hard changes these days, and I usually can't put aside paying work to concentrate on writing, which I've never done more than break even on (and I consider myself phenomenally lucky in that regard, mind you).
I also self-published because I felt so incredibly burnt by my first publishing excursion, the comic series that was collected into a graphic novel, which was supposed to be a 120 page story until I was told to gut 24 pages out of it. I should have walked away rather than tear the heart out of my story. If you find yourself in that situation be sure you do.
Johnny Rotten- who launched a revolution- suffered from a particularly excruciating case of spinal meningitis in his youth and then watched his mother- who cared for him while he was ill- rot away from cancer shortly after the Sex Pistols' first breakup. Joe Strummer and David Bowie both grew up sharing close bonds with severely mentally ill brothers (Strummer's brother committed suicide in public when he was 19).
The Beach Boys' Wilson brothers also suffered under a tyrannical father, resulting in substance abuse, mental illness, and early death. Tina Turner suffered spousal abuse for years under the yoke of her husband Ike. Ozzy Osbourne ended up joining the band of the bully who made his school days hell. Talk about dysfunctional.
Artists will freely volunteer that drugs are such a part of the process because it's nearly impossible to function in that pressure-cooker world without them. Stevie Nicks nearly burned out her nose and throat with cocaine, which she got into to cope with the brutal schedule the band was thrown into when they became superstars.
The narrative goes Weiland went out a trainwreck but he was giving
powerful performances like this the week before his death
Leave me out, get away I gotta go
Long way home can't see through the trees
Leave me alone, get away better run fast as I can
From the man dirty man the old man
If Weiland suffered serious and/or longterm abuse when he was young- particularly if it was violent abuse- then the arc of his autodestruction makes more sense.
Whatever the irrelevant critic class thinks, there's a serious argument to be made that he was the most gifted frontman and vocalist of his generation. A recombinant Jim Morrison/David Bowie chimera. Which is to say that he had everything to live for, every reason to keep his shit together. But something was eating away at him, something too raw and deep to ever come to terms with. In the end, it was etched all over his face.
They rarely seem to choose anything but. I'd like to think suffering is over-rated but hearing the endless tapeloop on my radio (both the same old songs here and endless regurgitations of them there) seems to argue against that.
The Muses love broken vessels but they also love intrepid explorers. And that goes for more than music, I might add.