Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them

Well, we certainly proved ourselves to be exactly that at our little wingding last Thursday. Thanks to everyone who came out and listened to us tell our lies, read aloud from our books of lies, and sing about things that never really happened at all.

But that's not why I'm writing this.

It's Thelma, y'all. And I'm hear to tell you a thing or two about lies. And the lying liars who tell them.

See, we're all equipped with a B.S. meter. Ask any little baby you come across, or just watch them when they're still too little to worry where mom is. If she hands them off to someone they don't feel right about, they'll start wailing.

You were just like that when you were smaller. Some of us manage to stay that way, which is very lucky. Others get acculturated and domesticated, and probably told a few too many times that it's rude to not believe people's lies, or smacked around for questioning things they dang well know are lies. And it starts to get complicated and confusing. Eventually you sort of give up, and your gut instincts get ill. And gut + ill = guilt. Heh. I'm gonna copyright that formula.

I don't know if there's any way to fix this about myself, so I've just started thinking backwards. I figure any time I feel guilty for not buying someone's load of crap, it's my gut instincts in disguise, wearing a chicken suit and squawking to get my attention.

Donald Passman wrote this book that's pretty much the bible of the music industry for artists. It's called All You Need To Know About the Music Business.

It could also be called "All You Need To Know About Navigating Human Nature," but I guess that overreaches. Still, Passman makes a great point about how to know whether you can trust people when you're having to make decisions that could spell life or death for your career in the big-time. He tells you to trust your gut. Now, how are you supposed to do that when your gut is dressed in a chicken suit and impossible to take seriously?

There's something about creative people, or maybe the act of taking the leap of faith, that involves this boiling-oil situation of learning to be loyal to your instincts. Even if you tank from it in your career, know this: You'll still have to master it in your daily life no matter what. If you're pursuing a creative goal, you likely aren't buffered by the safety nets most people take for granted -- a regular paycheck, someone else paying for your health insurance, maternity leave. As if that didn't suck enough, you also have little to no budget for dishonesty or bad faith in your life, from yourself or from anyone else. You are going to pay the price for it, directly and dearly, and it has less to do with being "creative" than it does with being the person who's assuming all the risk. Welcome to You, Inc.

I've started thinking about the idea of emotional incorporation -- some way to protect your emotional investment so that, if it all comes crashing down tomorrow, you won't crash with it. I'm beginning to conclude that having healthy instincts, and the courage to respond to them appropriately, is something well worth cultivating. It's a good argument for maintaining your childlike state as a creative person. And not that you care, but it earns you respect.