The Down Side of 'Clean and Sober' October 16, 2011— A couple of months ago, MP3NewsWire posted an article about the fact that I have stopped writing ("Key Digital Music Scribe Quieted"), wherein they surmised that my spirit had been broken. The real reason for my silence is probably just because I stopped getting high. I quit drinking altogether in 2003, a result of watching too many of my friends turn into raging alcoholics. That was not a great sacrifice on my part because I really never enjoyed drinking all that much in the first place. It deadens the senses and gets in the way of too many activities. I had more or less given it up quite some time beforehand, but the experience of trying to open a nightclub (for the purpose of having a music venue) sealed the deal. But I was still smoking pot on a regular basis. I gave that activity up a bit more than a year ago after my business failed and I was forced to find a "real" job. Since virtually every employer in the state of Arizona requires drug testing as a condition of employment, I finally gave up enjoying the intoxicating effects of the herb. That's when I stopped playing music. The cessation of my writing came soon after. Marijuana is the only drug I ever really enjoyed. Unlike all of its competition, it's the only drug that I felt stimulated the senses instead of deadening them. It made me more analytical, more focused and more willing to express myself. Since I've stopped, I no longer am a fraction as curious about the rest of the world, I no longer am inquisitive about the motivation of others, no longer wish to change things, have no desire to expose the truth, challenge the status quo, or enlighten others. My creativity has ceased to exist. It used to be that I followed my passions, dedicated myself to working on the things that truly mattered to me and this always magically resulted in enough income to survive. It put me into sound engineering, journalism and computer programming. Now my entire existence is about making a regular paycheck, something I never used to be satisfied with. This sort of existence carries no purpose beyond paying the bills. I'm still not satisfied with it, but without any consciousness-expanding behavior going on, I am not really driven to do anything about it. Perhaps it is a coincidence that this came about at exactly the same time that I achieved all of my life's goals (none of which involved money). The only thing I had left that I felt I needed to do was to write a book, but doing so would create the necessity of trying to sell it. The experience of creating albums was borne out of the desire to create, and the long-held belief that I could make a decent album (which I feel that I did). However, the act of trying to sell recordings taught me that I am a horrible saleman, which has been enough in and of itself to dissuade me from writing a book. Along with the demise of my creativity has come the end of being driven to have a greater purpose, apparently another delusion brought with the use of marijuana. It seems as if it was a useful delusion for a very long time, but I really am not driven to achieve now. As for music, I've picked up the guitar a few times, but I just don't feel music like I used to. It probably doesn't help that, without being intoxicated herbally, I no longer have the slightest desire to be in places where large groups of people are drinking. The time I've spent as a security guard has made me dread being in any concert arena or bar. Too many drunks. And the realization that these are the very people that playing music attracts. No thanks. The labels are still ripping off the artists (and so is the audience), but the artists keep signing up for more of the same. The only potentially profitable arena is live performances, which are now falling by the wayside due to astronomical tickets prices in the face of the worst economy since the Great Depression. And for the first time in my life, none of the new music I hear appeals to me. Oversimplified, overly processed, unoriginal, and meaningless. There's no music in music any more and the stuff I used to like seems equally banal. With the ongoing random drug tests required of my job, this eliminates even the ability to relax and enjoy even if I have a few days off in a row. If I had a 36-day vacation, I could indulge during the first day, but even that small respite will not happen. Which leaves me wondering if I will ever see any real purpose in life again. Or is it all about the money? If that is the case, then I'll be glad when it's over.