Dionysus with a Walker

I love comedy. The only problem I have with comedy is I hate comedians. They’re miserable people.

I love music. The only problem I have with music is I hate musicians. They’re fame obsessed douche bags.

I love acting. The only problem I have with acting is I hate actors. Their mommy-issues have mommy-issues.

When I set-out to have a life in the art world, I had no idea “The Road Less Traveled” meant the road with fewer pals. Thought I’d be carpooling.

When I set-out to have a life in the art world, I imagined a world filled with passionate camaraderie. When I set-out to have a life in the art world, I imagined coffee cups filled with insightful conversations, sunrises giving birth to epiphanies, friendships carved out of destiny.

Stanislavsky was wrong. There’s no “Magic If.” There’s a snotty “As If.”

The art world celebrates brats who are propped-up and secretly resented by brats who tried but didn’t “make it.” Or brats who did “make it,” but made it too soon, and ended-up clinging to the personality of their younger-self, to the exclusion of the on-going immediate reality, which is so much better than anything their younger-self could have imagined.

I love my life. The only problem I have with my life is sometimes I hate it. This isn’t true. It’s not untrue. But it’s more untrue than true. Here’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but my spin on the truth: I’m happy-go-lucky unless I’m talking to someone who’s contaminating my mood.

Or reading People Magazine.

I’m lucky. I get to work with my brother. I’m lucky. I get to work with my cousin. I’m lucky, just yesterday, I got to spend all morning wiring and rewiring and re-rewiring the point-of-sales system at Max’s Deli with my dad.

I’m lucky. Mom forgave me for not calling on her birthday. And I got to blog about it.

Maybe I’ll even write a song about it. Or make fun of it when I hit the next open mic. The bad news is I can’t hang around after the open mic, since all of the performers are secretly competing with each other. It’s exhausting.

What’s the rush? Where’s everyone going? Backstage of the VMA’s, so they can advise Miley Cyrus on rockstar protocol.

What’s the rush? Where’s everyone going? To #26 on the Maxim Hot 100 List, so they can best Sarah Silverman.

What’s the rush? Where’s everyone going? To Pere Lachaise Cemetery, so they can give a reach around to the ghost of Jim Morrison.

I love The Doors. The only problem I have with The Doors is I hate that Jim Morrison died at 27. He should have lived long enough to watch his music career fizzle, his leather pants become 3-sizes too small and be offered a comeback tour of assisted living facilities sponsored by Mayo Clinic’s hip replacement surgery.

Break On Through To The Other Hip.


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7 Responses to Dionysus with a Walker

  1. Claudia says:

    “When I set-out to have a life in the art world, I imagined coffee cups filled with insightful conversations, sunrises giving birth to epiphanies, friendships carved out of destiny.”

    I love it.. I love it all..

  2. Gregor says:


    You’re too kind. Thank you.

  3. Vince says:

    Claudia is a super-fan of Greg’s. It’s a smart choice; really it is super smart. Greg is accessable. He responds to her messages. Greg is obtainable. Claudia just needs to walk in to the deli and she can get some free bread and a free hot cup of coffee to dump her tea bag into and there she can talk up Greg for about 20 minutes; also for free. This is a very smart choice.

    George Clooney’s super-fan ended up in jail. All she wanted was some sex, a free apartment, $6,500 a month in spending money and one servant, trips around the world, and some dates with George. Is that really too much to ask? Claudia is the smarter-super fan.

    Super-fan Andy is hot for Greg. He offers to take trips with Greg and go shooting with Greg. He wants Greg to see Andy in all of his glory and in all of his powerful positions. Andy, nver willing to admit to being a homosexual, got an erection watching Broke Back Mountain and dreams of a similar experience with Greg on a shooting trip together. It’s really not gay, Andy thinks, if it is male bonding, like in jail. Andy is a dangerous super-fan.

    • Gregor says:

      I’m a super-fan of Vinny Vegas. I’m also a super-fan of Babs, 8Andy and Claudia.

      George Clooney put himself out there. He continues to put himself out there. From my point-of-view, the pluses of George Clooney putting himself out there out weight the minuses.

      I put my ideas out there. I will continue to put my ideas out there. It’s a short term investment in a long term process.

      Writing, storytelling, hitting open mics, hitting story jams, pushing myself to learn how to read & write music, it’s a process.

      Who knows where it’s leading. I don’t. I for sure don’t. Truth be told, blogging didn’t exist when I decided to become a writer. Blogging wasn’t even a verb.

      When the pluses out weigh the minuses, here’s hoping my older-self has the kind of guts my younger-self had to walk away from the band when my bandmates stopped collaborating and started expecting things to magically happen.

      Nothing happens without consistency, time and super-fans winking at you to keep on keeping on.

      It’s a process. Thank you.


    • Claudia says:

      Ay ay ay Mister Wonderful, here you go again opening your mouth to spew unkind words and wreck havoc. It appears that you simmer in a batter of bitterness, anger, and disappointments. So Sad!
      I can sit here and try to educate you about women but I would be wasting my time. It is bad enough that I’m responding at all, but in the spirit of the blogging world I feel incline to do so.
      I would agree that I’m smart; I would also agree that I’m a fan of Greg’s writing and his intelligence, but I’m not a beggar. I do not want anything for free and that includes bread and coffee.
      As for the teabag comment, are you implying that I have balls? In that case I hope Greg’s deli has a huge cup. If you are implying that I want to teabag Greg than I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m great at the hips but lousy on the lips.
      Are you short? Because it sounds like you suffer from the Napoleon Bonaparte Syndrome short in stature, short in spirit, and overcompensating.
      If you haven’t notice I’m the only woman besides Babs that comments on this blog and I’m not going anywhere.
      Enough Said!

  4. Gregor says:

    Bien. Bien.

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