Another school year starts at the yard.

I used to be under the misguided impression (or assumption) that musicians and artists do what they do because they value an artistic aesthetic over financial stability - basically, that we care about happiness over money.

But I think I was wrong. All my friends from Berkeley are at heart, happier than most of my true artist-friends. Why is this?

Musicians (the true artist ones, at any rate) are plagued with the inexplicable obsession with some contorted late-19th century ideology of human suffering as a form of romanticism. Maybe this explains why so many of our personal lives are one big fucking mess. Are we addicted to the emotional pain of the starving romantic? We do not what is healthy or logical for us, but instead, what we feel. To feel. Feel. Why are we obsessed with feeling? Be it pain, extasy, nostalgia, joy, whatever. We yearn to feel.