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I WOKE UP HOME ALONE AND
THERE IS A DEERR IN MY HOUSE KJGKJKLLKJ I’M SCARED IT WON’T GO OUTSIDE NAD IT’S EATING MY DOGS FOOD
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Brief background: Having raised 1.2 million dollars to crowdfund her new album, Theatre is Evil, Amanda Palmer has taken to the road for an extensive tour in which she is asking local musicians to join her on stage to perform the string and horn portions of songs. The fact that she is not paying these musicians has incited outrage in some worrisomely uninformed corners of the musical community.
Objectively, this seems like a fair standpoint. “She’s raised over a million dollars!” the collective critic shouts, “So why can’t she pay these musicians?”
There are a few simple answers, a few complex agreements, and a whole slew of subjective feelings about this question.
The first thing we have to understand is that Amanda was technically a millionaire for only a very short period of time before that money was invested in various types of merchandise. Now she’s back to being a musician, albeit a musician with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of merch being shipped out to fans, and just as many dollars worth of touring on her calendar. We didn’t give her our money so she could be rich. We gave her our money so she could make art. It’s a give and take system.
Secondly, there’s a very logical way of looking at the play for pay argument: we need to look at it not in terms of music, but in terms of a service rendered. By playing in Amanda’s band, these musicians are providing a service for her. But providing service doesn’t always have the connotation of receiving reimbursement. The most popular form of gaining experience in almost all walks of life has become interning, and many internships are unpaid. Writers intern at newspapers and magazines, scientists intern at research labs, and so on and so forth for a good number of skilled professions.
People take on unpaid internships because they want the experience. It’s how your name gets out there. It’s how you make connections. It’s how you get a taste of the industry that you’ve decided to dedicate your time to. Amanda is giving these musicians a chance to meet incredible artists, perform in front of incredible (if I do say so myself) crowds, and get the experience of a lifetime doing what they love, oftentimes with one of their idols. If they wanted money, then they wouldn’t have volunteered in the first place.
Furthermore, this fanbase is unique. We have insider views that change the way we perceive what’s going on. But isn’t that fair? People who aren’t part of this community are standing here yelling, “Her fans should be outraged! They’re the ones getting ripped off!” But that’s like Americans shaking their fists, ranting “That Prince Harry! Great Britain ought to be ashamed by their royals!” The thing is, England is like, “Nah, guys, it’s cool, we like Harry. He’s a pretty neat dude.” The same goes for Amanda’s fanbase. We like her. We see what she’s doing, and we get it — if we didn’t get the concept, we wouldn’t have donated to the album in the first place. Everything here runs on the same theory: music is art, art’s impact depends on it reaching the people, so reach the people any way you can. So give our Prince Harry a break — you don’t even live in this country!
But it’s not all as simple as that. Here, to me, is the caveat in this whole affair: Just because she’s not paying them doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be encouraging her fans to show appreciation through donations. As has been said many times in this argument, very few (if any) of these volunteers have real CDs or merchandise to sell. So why not pass the hat? Isn’t that what was done for troupes like the Danger Ensemble? Just because these musicians aren’t touring with her doesn’t mean that the crowd won’t be willing to put a few dollars in for them. For one night, those musicians are part of the band. And the audience is going to see them like that. Give them the chance to make a little extra money, and, furthermore, encourage the fans to donate.
Subjectively, I think this is fucking awesome. I love it. It seems to me that the most fitting way to run a tour put together from crowd-sourced money is to crowd-source musicians. It feels right – like a group of people getting picked and plucked out of towns and cities across the world and finding that for one night at least they have become a community.
Let me conclude by saying that if I had any talent at all, I would volunteer it to this woman with all my heart. No matter how much money I give to Amanda Palmer, I feel like she has given me so much more. These volunteer musicians, they get to give art. And to me, that is the best way anyone could give back to someone like this. Money feels like paying her, but this feels like an opportunity to thank and be thanked: The same give and take that has made all of this happen. I envy the people with the talent to get this opportunity, but I also respect them, admire them, and would be happy to support them if a hat happened to come my way.
Girlfriend decided to put a sock on my dogs foot, and my dog seemed a little shocked to say the least.
For those of you wondering how your daily moment of Amanda countdown was going to end…
It ends like this, in a hotel, about to go to a wedding, with Amanda practicing the song she’s going to play them.
And it ends with me seeing my wife for the first time in a hundred days. It was awkward, a bit tentative, yesterday. And today it’s really easy and comfortable.
yea im a girl
yea i play video games
yea im a dude
of course i play fucking video games
im really a woman
I AM SO HAPPY THAT THIS HAPPENED OMFG
yea im a girl
yea i play video games
HAHAHAAHA JK IM OLD GREGG
OMFG. HOLY SHIT.
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The truth is, I think you’re beautiful.
I think that maybe everything I’ve ever done has been, in some way or another, an attempt to be a few milliseconds or tiny steps or waking dreams closer to you. When everything else washes away, I think that something of you will remain in my mind, a bright light that has burned itself out but not before it could leave its imprint, like a volatile firework, on the insides of my eyelids.
I believe that all of the rib-cracking-chest-organ-aching dull sort of pain you have caused me has simply been a succession of small accidents, mistakes snowballing into heartbreak. I have to believe that, because the alternative is worse. Believing is always easier.
And so I believe with all my heart that I will grow to hate you. That, in time, I will remember myself enough to begrudge you all the pain you’ve caused. The truth is, I can believe all I want, but that won’t do anything. I can wish on every star and coin and eyelash, but it’s not enough.
The truth is, you’ll never think I’m beautiful.
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