Songs For The Struggling Artist

My laptop’s battery has been behaving badly so I made an appointment to have it looked at. The confirmation message said I should update my software before my appointment so I set about making that happen. Unfortunately, I did not have enough storage space to update my operating system, so I had to set about clearing some stuff out. To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://ratethispodcast.com/strugglingartist⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Join my mailing list: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.emilyrainbowdavis.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Like the blog/show on Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.facebook.com/SongsfortheStrugglingArtist/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Support me on Patreon: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.patreon.com/emilyrdavis⁠⁠

When Chase bank charged me $15 for not having enough money in my account, I switched to USAA bank. I felt very strongly that people (and especially me) should not be penalized for being insolvent. I went with USAA because when my friends would put down their cards after a meal and discovered they all had USAA, they would all commence to talk about how much they loved their bank. I had literally never heard of anyone loving their bank before so when Chase let me down with that $15 charge, I signed up for USAA. Twenty two years later, I still have the same bank but I’m considering making a change and I suspect general enshittification and the rot economy are to blame but also, very plausibly, Apple. To keep reading Apple Seems to Be Getting into My Business visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 417. Song: One Bad Apple Image by Rayson Tan via Unsplash To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

An artist friend of mine is about to meet a lot of new people and is dreading the conversations that will include the inevitable question, “So, what do you do?”. She knows when she tells them she’s an artist, they’re going to ask, “Can you make a living doing that?” and it’s going to make her feel bad. I don’t know why people feel like this is a socially acceptable question to ask artists but I, too, have been confronted with these sorts of responses when conversing with civilians. When I was an actor, people used to say, “Oh, really? You’re an actor? What restaurant do you wait tables at?” Har, har, har. I think they meant to express some secret knowledge they felt they had about the difficulties of being an actor but it was always such an uncomfortable moment. For me, my answers were: “No, actually, I’m working as an actor.” “No, actually, my day job is teaching.” “No, actually, I’m temping.” For my friends who did work in restaurants, sometimes they felt they had to play along, laugh at the joke (which was

The loss of Sinéad O’Connor hit me harder than I would have expected. I hadn’t been much of a fan in her glory days and while I respected her, I hadn’t paid her much mind in the intervening years. I suppose I’d imagined she’d always be here and I looked forward to seeing what an old lady version of Sinéad might get up to and then suddenly she was gone. In the outpouring of press in the wake of her death, I learned a lot about her and saw many clips and I started to feel embarrassed about my previous disinterest. The film about her was made available on the anniversary of her death so I watched it. I felt I owed it to her. To keep reading I Let You Down Sinéad, visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is episode 415 Song: Mandinka Image of Sinéad O'Connor by Bryan Ledgard via Wikicommons To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://ratethispodcast.com/strugglingartist⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

One of the things about maintaining a pretty regular practice over the years, is that one really does start to depend on it. In recent years, I’ve hardly ever missed a day of writing. I fight like hell for it and mostly I succeed. It is the anchor in my day, wherever I am and whatever else I’m doing. This is largely possible because I don’t tend to have a lot of other people around me. Other people have needs and the more of them there are, the harder it is to get your own into the mix. This is why so many artists go away for residencies. To read more of Missing Writing Practice, visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 414 Song: You Had Time Image from my residency at Mudhouse in Crete To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://ratethispodcast.com/strugglingartist⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Join my mailing list: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

When I pulled out my goggles for the first time in a while, I started laughing, remembering when a friend of mine asked me if I’d pulled them out of the pool’s lost and found. I said, “No, these are mine.” He thought they were a child’s goggles because they are a colorful green with a bubblegum pink strap. “Nope,” I explained, “I bought them.” “By accident?” “Nope. Entirely on purpose.” “Why?” To keep reading A Goggle Story visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 413 Song: Do My Thing (Estelle with Janelle Monae) Image of my goggles by yours truly, Emily Rainbow Davis To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://ratethispodcast.com/strugglingartist⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Join my mailing list: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.emilyrainbowdavis.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Like the blog/show on Facebook: ⁠⁠

When Purple Rain came out, I was approaching my eleventh birthday. I wasn’t allowed to go see it but I did have the album. I also saw the videos, though I’m not sure how, as I don’t think we had a TV yet. Forty years have somehow gone by since I didn’t see Purple Rain so I went to an anniversary screening in Brooklyn Bridge Park. I found myself both moved and troubled by the experience. The crowd was amazing. From the opening number of the film, almost everyone was up on their feet, ready to go crazy. About half the crowd could not resist doing “The Bird” even as they remained seated on their blankets. Lighters and cell phones were raised during “Purple Rain.” And when Prince hit Apollonia in the face so hard she spun and fell into a dresser, the crowd made an audible sound of disapproval. The violence was what I was not prepared for. Having spent my youth in a kind of complicated double bind of being both a feminist and a fan of Prince’s music, I was familiar with the confusion of all the objectifying images

A friend of mine was recently rejected for a job and it stung a bit. They’re someone who hadn’t often had the experience of rejection, having mostly done their own thing where they needed no one’s approval but their own. Honestly, I think this person is better off without this job they were applying for but I sympathize with the pain of rejection, particularly when it’s for the first time, really. As someone who has been rejected hundreds, if not thousands of times, I thought I might help ease the sting a little. 1) It’s not you. It’s them. When I was a young actor, doing a lot of auditioning, I kept trying to imagine what the auditors wanted and tried to provide it as best I could. I imagined they wanted a particular kind of Juliet so I would try to BE that kind of Juliet for them. If I didn’t get the job, I’d assume it was because I did not do a sufficient job giving them what they wanted. To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via

Now that I have an expensive piece of medical tech installed in my arm, I can no longer go through the body scan when I go through airport security. I flew out of JFK, which, as usual, was an absolute zoo, and when I finally got to the scanning portion of the proceedings, I tried to explain the issue. When they understood, the man shouted “Opt out” and called for “female agent.” The pat down I then received was so thorough, it felt punitive. Like, was it really necessary to run your hand between my waistband and my skin?  Do you really have to get right up in the inseam? How well did you really need to feel my underwires? But, you know, it was my first time going through airport security with my new medical condition so I was just glad they didn’t destroy my device.  To keep reading Female Opt Out visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 410 Song: Pat Down by Faybee Image of the Munich Airport in 2009 by Politikaner via Wikicommons To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podc

I’m currently seated on a deck that looks out over the Pacific Ocean, on Bowen Island in British Columbia. I can smell the saltwater from here and hear the lap of the waves. When I look up, I see the mountains and little islands across the bay. Wildflowers dot the hillside. I have an iced coffee and pen and paper. I’m not sure how this scenario could be more idyllic. To read more of Writing in a Beautiful Place visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 409 Song: No Distraction Image of the scene on Bowen Island taken by me, Emily Rainbow Davis To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://ratethispodcast.com/strugglingartist⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Join my mailing list: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.emilyrainbowdavis.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Like the blog/show on Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.f

The nurse turned pale when she read the glucometer. The whole office kicked into emergency mode and when the doc came in, he let me know I was going to be there a while. My blood sugar was super high and had been super high every time I’d been tested over the last five months but now that I was in this endocrinology office, it was suddenly an emergency. A young man came in to give me an insulin shot and asked me if it was Type One or Type Two and I gave him the biggest shrug I have ever shrugged. No one had diagnosed me yet. Diagnosis: I have Type-I-Don’t-Know-Man-I-Guess-I-Have-Diabetes. Maybe ask the doctor whose office you work in? To keep reading A Day at the End of May visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 408 It's about #diabetes Song: Sugar on My Tongue Image by smallbox via Unsplash To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://ratethispodcast.com/struggli

The little black velvet notebook reappeared and I thumbed through it. I had called it The Adventure Book and at the top of each page, there was an idea I’d written there at some point. I don’t remember why I decided to do that or why I stopped but I assume it was meant to encourage the development of each idea. In re-reading these ideas from I don’t know how long ago, I was struck by how many of them I’d actually made happen.  To keep reading A Different Measure of Success visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 407 Song: The Champion Image of my Adventure Book by me, Emily Rainbow Davis To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://ratethispodcast.com/strugglingartist⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Join my mailing list: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.emilyrainbowdavis.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Like the blog/show on Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

A patron of mine sent me a message about receiving my zine, explaining that her husband found it easier to read the paper version because he didn’t really read so much on the computer. I said I understood and felt similarly – that I much preferred paper to reading on-line. Which is funny, really, because I publish most of my stuff on the internet. This exchange made me think of a moment of transition that happened at one of my jobs years ago. It started like this: I’d been working at BAM as a teaching artist where one of my main gigs was doing pre-show prep workshops. Whenever we’d get assigned a show, we’d receive a packet of information about the show, information about the school, our contracts, and if it was available, a videotape of the show we were going to teach. It had gone like this for quite a few years when the program manager (maybe the third one I’d worked with at that point) started to email us PDFs of show information instead. And this is the moment of transition. To keep reading Print This for

Folks over on the Period Drama subreddit recommended the Russian series, Detective Anna, and as previously established, I am a particular fan of period workplace dramas about women, so this seemed right up my street. Anna is not really a detective, though. She has visions of dead people who then help her solve their murders. It’s a ghost detective show, I guess. Like a Pulling Daisies or The Ghost Whisperer or Medium. (There’s a genre now, it seems.) Detective Anna takes place in the late 1800s in a small Russian town called Zadonsk so it has a pleasing amount of period overcoats and hoods and hats and such. I’m enjoying it for the most part. There’s something about it, though, that feels very familiar and a little uncomfortable. The titular character, Anna (not a detective), is a young woman who has a talent, surrounded by men who do not acknowledge it. To keep reading Something Familiar About this Russian Show visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 405 Song: Nobody Takes Me Serious

Because I get my Feldenkrais liability insurance through a massage therapy umbrella, they send me Massage Therapy Journal, which I read, even though I am not a massage therapist. I figure I might learn something. What the heck? In the issue I just finished, they talked a lot about how to avoid burnout and take care of one’s self at work. Much of the content involved identifying one’s top strengths and leaning into them. Now, about a decade ago, I got really into the Strengths Movement which was focused on a similar idea. I thought it was interesting for both work and education. I identified stuff I was good at and figured out how to lean in to those things. Then I promptly forgot about it and now I can’t even tell you what I determined my strengths were back then. The burnout article suggested using the VIA strength finder to determine your top five strengths and values. This sounded familiar to me. I thought I probably had taken this test before so I searched for it on my computer. Yes, yes, I had – about a

The other night, I found myself watching an interview with a theatre practitioner I admire a great deal. He’s an amazing performer, director, teacher and thoughtful analyst of his craft. I found myself taking notes – adding them to previous documents I’d created, filled with his tips and tricks. But as I was taking notes, full of enthusiasm and excitement, I felt an undercurrent of “Why?” Why was I furiously writing down his clown exercises or his recipe for comic developments? I haven’t put on a clown show since 2009. I haven’t had need to exercise my physical comedy chops in ages. I know a fair amount about these things. I care about them. I still have curiosity about them. If any of my beloved teachers gave a workshop here, I’d sign up for it. But not because I have any use for it. I don’t have a life for which any of this knowledge is necessary, which somehow makes me very sad. There’s something about having spent decades growing my knowledge about things that I now never get a chance to exercise that fee

Despite my appreciation for Yorgos Lanthimos’ earlier work, I was not planning on seeing Poor Things. A lot of my feminist friends were not fans and I figured I could skip it. But then I learned that Kathryn Hunter was in it, playing a madam, and I got curious. (I worked with Kathryn on a show in London a while ago so she’s very dear to me.) So I watched it. Apparently there was a whole conversation around whether or not this was a feminist film. (Answer: not.) But it is, as my friend said, some men’s idea of a feminist film. Which is really not the same. This is not to say that men can’t make feminist films. If Lanthimos made a bio pic of Gloria Steinem, maybe that would be a feminist film. (Though maybe not if he chose to focus exclusively on her relationships with men or only her Playboy bunny stunt but otherwise it would be hard to NOT make a feminist film about Steinem.) But while this film may pass the Bechdel test on a technicality (I think the conversation between Emma Stone and Kathryn Hunter was lon

The other day, I was feeling so much despair about how things are and where we were headed as a culture. I thought, “If someone showed up with a time machine and asked me if I wanted to go back to the 70s or 80s to live, I’d absolutely say yes.” I told my friend about this feeling and she said, “I’m coming with you.” We figured we should bring her kids and her husband (she was pretty sure they’d want to go, too), and my partner and maybe another friend of ours and her family – if they were up for it – and we were ready to start over in the past. A past that would be familiar, because we lived through those decades as children, but would likely look different through our adult eyes. To keep reading I Would Accept that Time Travel Invitation visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 401 Song: Like the Weather Image by J Huang via Unsplash To support this podcast: Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review! Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠http

Despite my swearing off Wrongfully Convicted podcasts, I found myself watching a similarly themed docu-series recently. I was maybe halfway into the first episode before I realized it was a doozy of a wrongful conviction case. Were it not for the theatre element, I might have quit watching right then. I’m glad I stuck around. Mind Over Murder is about the impact a murder had on a small town in Nebraska called Beatrice (Bay-AA-trice). Six people were sent to prison for the crime, then pardoned and exonerated but it’s still a painful and contentious issue in the town, even decades after the events. The documentary shows us people who are still convinced that the exonerated people did it and tells the stories of many of the people involved. All of that would have been enough for a fascinating documentary – but happening alongside it is a community theatre production of a verbatim style show about the situation. Not surprisingly, for this theatre maker, the theatrical element was the most touching piece. The show

The venue told us to tag them on social media so they could share our posts. I said, “We’ve tagged you multiple times on Twitter, TikTok and Facebook. Are you not seeing them?” “Oh,” they said, “We’re not active there. I guess it’s really just Instagram.” For some people (mostly Millennials, I guess), “Social media” just means Instagram. I happen to loathe Instagram the most. So for me, I lean toward Twitter and Facebook – but it’s all social media to me. I still post things to Instagram, even though I don’t like it. I figure I can’t afford to leave anyone out. Sometimes something hits on LinkedIn. Sometimes a thing is a hit on TikTok. It’s possible that these are sort of generational silos, where different generations gather in one place or another. I guess since Friendster and MySpace are gone. Gen X tends to go wherever – and I think that is actually a useful instinct because our numbers are small. So when sharing our work, for example, we can’t just talk to ourselves. To keep reading Social Media Silos vi