Saturday, June 27, 2009

Slingbox, Soho London and Michael Jackson....

It's 5am. Once again, I'm in same London hotel room not able to sleep. Didn't even need the drugs or the alcohol to stay awake. Every gay club in West London rocked out to all Michael Jackson and Denise Williams. I was in 8th grade again high as a kite. Taking a few hours to think about .......... nothing. No ground transportation, no guarantee pick ups, no routing.
This industry is a roller coaster. Any time someone has a heart attack i'm afraid of my stress levels. I know production managers who have died and / or had triple bypasses due to their levels of stress. And as I go into this meeting in a few hours to play who has the biggest balls, I'm contemplating, "why do i have to prove it all the time? Can't I have a respectable business in the music industry without my employees fearing me or my blood pressure rising?" And I think the answer is, to be good? no. To be at the top of your game? Hells no. I have to be constantly on my toes even if it's stomping out shit heads who are beneath me. But who's beneath me? And who am I to even have someone beneath me. It's just like Dina in Housewives of New Jersey who gave up success to take care of her child. Cept that bitch had a husband in the background who'd pay for shit regardless.

That's always my fucking hang up.

let me get back to my slingbox to watch part two.

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