Dead, rotting perspectives that smell like stinky feet.

The first thing I need to admit is that basically, up to this point, I have been, in most things, a failure.    Including the framing and structuring of that opening sentence.   Yes, you read that right.  I have, for the most part, failed at most of the things I have set out to do.  And for a long, long, long time, that sense of failure, that sense that I wasn’t reaping the fruit of my efforts, well, it basically shut me down.  I would spend months writing and recording an album, working with my bandmates to fashion the most perfect assemblage of songs and thoughts and ideas, to polish them to a high sheen, and then with ever-lessening degrees of ceremony, we would cast these records into the abyss.   Where they would wail like newborn babes for a few moments before the deafening void swallowed them whole.

The unfortunate thing about looking at my life this way was that it made writing, recording, and releasing the next record all the more unpalatable.   And so the time between albums grew more significant,  The downtime between albums became more despondent.  Because I was no longer using drugs and alcohol, I turned to other distractions.  Computer games.  Books.  Day-jobs.  Masturbation.  Netflix.  Anything and everything to keep me from actually looking at the results of another record brought into this world, stillborn, or, if not stillborn, then ignored, unfed, and doomed to die a slow, painful, and lonely death.    A record, that during its conception, its manufacture, its glorious apotheosis from germinating idea to winged (pronounced wing-ed) cherub of holy purpose, I would daydream that rock historians would someday marvel over how beautifully we intertwined both musical and lyrical themes, working them into a fabric of unbridled amazing.   Only to have that daydream steamrolled by the monster truck of reality.

Needless to say, I needed a significant shift in perspective.  And that, my few remaining friends, is what I am happy to announce.  A brand new, shiny, luxury perspective with all the trimmings, all the extras, and all the add-ons.

Basically, it comes down to this.  I’m not a failure.  Sure, I don’t sell that many records.  But, hey, we do sell records.  People, for reasons unbeknownst to me, still buy our albums.  Even the new ones.   We have tens of thousands of fans across the planet.  Sure, we don’t know how to get in touch with them.  But they’re out there.  They’re the ones that have watched our YouTube videos over a million times.  And they’re the ones that post the occasional tweet about the band.  Or mention a song in a blog.  They might even be you.  But the thing is, we’re much, much better off than we were when I started this band with Pat and Amy in 2002.  And it is only due to a lack of effort on my part that we’re not doing more, selling more, engaging more with our fans.

So, I have decided to re-engage.  In every way.  Expect Twitter posts.  Mostly silly.  (Find me at MikeTVofGSG) Expect daily blog entries, because I intend to chronicle this new perspective.  And expect lots and lots of new music.  The good thing about owning our own record label is that I can release albums and singles whenever I want.  So I’m gonna do that.  And it’s gonna be amazing.  For me, anyhow. I hope you get the occasional kick outta it too.

And there will be more.  I’m not 100% certain what more.  I have been putting this whole thing in motion for the past few weeks but it has only been able to become a reality…well, it actually won’t be a reality until Saturday.  But come Saturday, I am Mike TV, utterly-broke but again FULL-TIME, outrageously honest and occasionally daring songwriter.   And I intend to spend every waking hour working towards a future that allows me to keep the full time, keep the honest, keep the daring, but hopefully shed the broke.  Or maybe just upgrade to working poor.  I can be comfortable with working poor.   Anyhow.  Good things are in the future.

Expect nudity.