Computers, like all creatures, need many things. Shelter, love, a steady diet of electricity and regular file system maintenance. What they generally do not need, however, is liquid of any kind, especially on their insides. Recently, while me and Em were sitting at a coffee place in downtown Nashville, I happened to notice that her side of the table had less room on it than mine did. Me being the very nice person that I am, I decided to pull her computer toward me to give her more room to work, as she generally spreads her work wider than do I. In so doing, I knocked her entire cup of coffee all over the table, with a majority of the liquid going directly toward my laptop, soaking into the space between the hard shell case I've always had on it, and going all over the inside of the unit. Needless to say, no part of the computer ever worked again. The hard drive won't spin up, it won't boot, it's Dead. Like Elvis.

And now an open letter to every one who has the power to give me a good job. I'm hopped up on anger, so there will be mistakes. Pixel.

This never was a certain thing. The production industry, while it will always be there, is a capricious beast, and not terribly inclined toward loyalty or, say...meritocracy. Or maybe it is and nobody knows about me yet. And this is what has me really, really angry: the lack of any sort of avenue by which I might showcase my abilities to the right people so that they can see what it is I can do and give me a gig that corresponds to my level of skill.

Meanwhile, idiots get awesome jobs. One of the unhappiest people (who hates doing lights) I've met in this industry is currently running lights for a dude you've heard of. It’s sort of a really good gig - he's just the button-pusher, not the designer. Of course, I'd rather design than Push the Button any day - no question - but at this point I have a limited ability to pick and choose the jobs that come my way. Why? I've seen the lighting of the really big lighting designers, and while some of them are awesome, many of them aren't. The design for TSO is based on like a million Sharpys, some Impressions, and some badly-edge-blended projectors. The LD’s focus positions are lame (and not updated for the venues de jour, at least when I saw the show), the lights never really showcase their abilities, and he's content to use about one effect throughout the entire show - a simple circle bally. No color chases, no effects based on the prism or the zoom, he didn't use the Impression's ability to pixel-map its front lens, and the TMB Flares were all up in my freaking face WAY too often. But he's designed them for years, so maybe they figure better the Devil They Know. Which is stupid.

I have poured my life into this industry. On Terri and BDW and Ronnie and everyone else, I gave my all to make sure those shows were as technically excellent as possible. I fill notebooks with sketches for things that my bands have rarely had the budget to realize, but at least I was trying to look forward to the day when we could afford better things. It's hard to design when you're stuck with a lighting budget of $4,000 a week or playing the tiniest, smelliest bars in the United States. I always seem to join up with bands that are either on their way out or just not going anywhere. Jake was the exception, but I was so supremely unhappy doing lights for that guy that I couldn't force myself to stay. Career suicide maybe, but at least I don't feel dirty waking up on that bus every morning.

And now I have to crawl on my hands and knees to every production company that I have any kind of relationship with, begging for work, and having to take whatever pitiful job is available at the moment. I was a grip for Nashville and have some stupid one-off filler bullshit work to keep me busy in the meantime. Is this what I signed up for? Getting tossed stupid mediocre low-paying gigs that I don't want and nobody else does either?

And then: out of the blue, I get called to do my current arena tour. But wait! I’m not the designer. That honor goes to another guy whose name I won’t mention, but he’s Big Time. Huge. His main client that he’s worked with for sells out arenas in twenty minutes. So he gets to design the rig, and programmed some of the songs, and I programmed the other half. And during our time together he expressed to me that stealing gigs was a Bad Thing, that once I got out there the temptation to try and become the designer would be there and I should resist that because he’s the designer and he would prefer if things stayed that way. So I do this, and the tour likes his work but they also like my work and there comes a time where the question arises: what are we doing next year? Mr. Bigtime had his shot, I’d really like the chance to showcase my abilities too, because I would like to design and also I have bills to pay. However, it’s a major no-no in this industry to go behind a designer’s back and attempt to get the show for yourself, and also we discussed it and I said I wouldn’t do that. So I did what I thought was the right thing: I e-mailed him, asking if he minded if I submitted a design proposal in the event that there would be a redesign, and I made it clear - extremely crystal clear - that I wouldn’t have any problem with him saying no, he just needed to tell me one way or the other and I would let the matter drop if he wasn’t game. I’d get that. And I hear nothing. Until like TWO MONTHS later when I’m called into the head of lighting’s office, wherein I was told that a) what I did was A Very Bad Thing b) Mr. Bigtime was very upset, and forwarded my personal e-mail to him all around the company up to and including the fucking vice president of the place, saying he felt threatened and we discussed this and how dare I have such a big head as to think I could take this over.

I am having some trouble with this because, obviously, I prefer people not to be mad at me, and I think what I did was not out of line. Going with the nuclear option to bring the Mighty Hammer of God down on me for even asking this guy, in private, if I could do A Thing seems way, way out of proportion to the level of threat I may actually represent. Apparently I’m a designer so insignificant but yet so full of Design Awesomesauce that he was immediately compelled to rush out and shut me down for fear I was going put him out of business. To add insult to this, my meeting with the Powers That Be informed me that the VP of the company doesn’t “really consider designers other than Mr. Bigtime”. Well, that’s just cozy and awesome for them, I guess, but it gives me zero incentive to be loyal to them, and despite my current relationship with them, I certainly won’t go out of my way to throw them any work that may come my way.

Five months ago I got a call from an account manager at a sound company, who told me that he was 99% sure that the LD of a certain well-known large band was getting fired, and excitedly told me "I think I just got you this gig". This account manager, however, is extraordinarily unreliable when it comes to actually getting things, and so I spent days literally unable to stop being anxious every time my phone buzzed or I heard the ding of my email program announcing an incoming message. Of course, none of them were the manager of this band, and I seriously doubt at this point I’ll ever hear from them. Why should he? In this industry, only the established are trusted with the big stuff. But at what point is one considered "established"? I've devoted the better part of the past ten years to working my ass off on every gig that I get in an effort to convince whomever might be watching that I'm worth taking a risk on, even though I haven't been doing this since 1980 when all the current Old Boy's Cronyism Club members started. Yeah, I get it - I'm young. Blah de frickin' blah. I can design, and I can program, and I can tour. What more do you want?

Would it be different anywhere else? Who knows. I never planned on being one of those corporate douchebags who wants to claw their way to the top by any means necessary. I don't care about revenue streams and while I can fix computers if I have to, I don't find any satisfaction in that like I used to. I want to do lights, full stop. It's all I want to do. I'd ultimately like to just design so that I can start a family. And I want to do it for a good band for a good paycheck, and I don't feel that's too much to ask.

But it is too much to ask. All the good jobs go to people who either have lots of money, way more years doing this than I do, or some combination of the two. Several people have told me that Keith's designer is a terrible person, but fabulously wealthy, so he gets the job. I've worked for years to build a valuable skillset and wasted my energy doing piddly jobs for piddly people who will never amount to anything. Nobody wants to take a chance. I come with fantastic recommendations, but nobody wants to listen to them. And I am this close to just throwing in the towel and learning to live without...happiness, I guess. Learning to merely exist in a fluorescently-lit hellhole where people drag themselves to work on Monday, their pale sallow skin etched with the drudgery of life as they lurch methodically through their day with nothing to live for but their Fantasy Footballs teams and the latest uninspired formulaic sitcom. Learning to cope with the relentless and deadening banality of their joyless, insipid lives while their insides wither away with each breath of recycled air. It's not an exaggeration to say I don't know how long I could live like that.

All I want to do is run some awesome lights. But I can't. You won't let me.

You all suck. Kiss my ass.

Exit, stage left. Sparks