Americans,
your President.


claude le monde
UDvCLM
...
archives + shop le monde
guestbook
diaryland
email the claw
...
the last five entries:

i killed it Gilbert

the taco mystique

no networks, no nukes, not notcakes

my vacation in numbers

cycloparappin: CnH4n


how we do:
loupe online
universal donor
tape + solitaire
dr j.j.
tuckova
drunkenbee
my ninjas
dinosaur comics !
the 2ndhand
12% beer


+ you are #




10:05 am | 04 September 2003 | success = sellout : DOES NOT COMPUTE

i have this theory that my demographic (again, i'm gonna limit it from, say, ages 20-35, and of those, mostly creative types) have this weird fear of success that is not classically psychological in origin (like this) but is more of a street-cred thing, to wit: our identities are frequently so firmly linked to being poor and struggling that "poor and struggling" is a form of validity, now: it's the uncola, the anti-sellout; if we were to succeed, we would be hated by our peers (c.f. Conor Oberst, White Stripes, Dashboard Confessional backlashes*). We would cease to be real.

I am not fooled by the rocks that she's got, and I also realize she isn't still Jenny from the block, any more than Moby 2003 is still Moby-circa-Feelin' So Real. But who can blame her? Who, given opportunity, wouldn't leave the Bronx for a $9-million-per-movie life? Anyone who says "Naw, man, I'd rather be a checkout girl in Hell's Kitchen and stay real than go be a movie star" is bursting with bullshit flavor.

I have bought into it. I think my fear of success is more fear-of-leaving-the-comfort-zone that of any deference to opinion--even this blog is sometimes hard, because i feel a weird pressure to, i don't know, not let you down or something--but the result of living is being dead either way, so i need to get over this crizzy and just start being awesome ASAP. Like, really-for-real awesome, not just roaming around my apartment like a phantom, congratulating myself on a particularly moving morning-shower rendition of "On the Road Again" the Tuesday prior. (Heh. You know what "Claudia" means, right?)

But, you guys, there are other ways. If you can, go ahead and succeed and then help other people like you. Give your money away. Start exhibits and readings. Help a sister out. Avoiding accomplishment in favor of a cynical, more-jaded-than-thou, victimized life is retarded, and sour grapes besides. I know that I want some sort of fame--not celebrity, fame--out of sheer Thanatos, that i don't want the adoration of millions to bolster my admittedly flagging sense of self-worth, and that i don't want a surplus of dollars so i can buy the entire Louis Vuitton bag line every season. I am not so lame as that. I want money so i can help my talented-but-poor friends out (okay, and possibly so i can finally get a damn pony, but that's an afterthought), and i want to be known as a form of insurance against mortality that not even the usual response--procreation--can provide. I want to succeed as a way to not die. And i care a whole lot more about not-dying than i care about "being real," if "real" means "poor and bitter." I'm off to really whomp a snow leopard's ass. clm.

*Does not imply author's endorsement; merely serves as example of things that were once embraced by "underground"/indie/emo/whatev communities that, after popular success, are now rejected/mocked/hated by their former fans, if only for no longer being "exclusive" or "gritty" or what-the-hell-ever.


CAVEAT: Read UD's Tuesday, June 04 entry. It's true, too. Wherein does the difference betwixt our philosophies lie? Hell, I don't know.


prev... (home) ...next

unless otherwise noted, all work contained herein is � claudia sherman, 2002-04.
all rights, including those of reproduction, reserved.