Woke up to Chok-A-Block-Avenue playing on loop on my iPad, throat dry, head heavy, and heart beating hard. Left my job, put my love at risk and lost my love, left a city life with a bank account and everything convenient in August and came off to Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music.
I'm not sure if it was finally courage, or utter distaste for the alter life, or just a pure love for music, or pure desperation that got me here. Now it's February, I've hardly played three gigs in the time, I turned 27 in October, and today, I am scared.
It's all great and rosy. All I know and can do is what I do already. But will it save me? I am not sure.
And now, I looked up universities in Berlin, etc etc ... one option is to study something like journalism and then play gigs during my free time. But that is bullshit, I haven't time to waste. I don't want to be a journalist again, an editor, or anything that sounds impressive. I just need to write and play more music. But once I've written, I don't know what's going to happen to me. I know I'll forget this feeling as the day progresses, but it's there.
