The Professionals

The burden of professionalism lies like a rock on the soul of creativity. There is more to treasure in the careless tinkerings of some artists than in the carefully honed and rehearsed constructions of others.

            I said that one night as we sat around in the kitchen; she with a white wine and me with the inevitable beer.

            “You’re copping out.” she said.

            “I’m serious! People miss out on a lot because they want perfect little turds wrapped up in neat little packages, bows tied.”

            She winced. She was frustrated with me. I could see that, but I wasn’t sure why. Because surely it was true. I’d heard too many people praise too many so-and-so’s who seemed to be without soul, for their clever little ditties. There were recipes to follow.

            The clock on the wall made an abnormally loud click as the top of the hour rolled into place. It had never done that before.

            “You’re just lazy.”

            “I used to think that too, but I’m not so sure anymore. Working too hard at it seems to squelch what it is I really want to do.”

            “What is it that you really want to do?”

            “Find something new, all the time. And find honest expression.”

            “What are the chances of that?”

            “If you can do it once, you can do it again. If not, then no matter how professional you are it doesn’t really matter - might as well sell used cars.” I took a hit of beer. “It won’t always work. Sometimes it will be the same old shit, it’s true. It’s a matter of probabilities. One has to take the chance. Chances are, if you don’t try too hard, it’ll happen. As far as honest expression goes, the chances are slimmer. We have a lot of skilled people but precious little of that.”

            “The probabilistic guy.” she said. She was sceptical about this view of life, though she knew it was as organic as wheatgrass to me. Play it by the probabilities.

            “Ya, that’s me.” I took a pull off the beer, afterward squelching an incredible interior burp, a heroic implosion.

            She smiled in hopeless abandon and we both laughed, wrinkles coming together along the sides of our eyes. Silliness really was the unabashed master.

            I saw that there was a good probability that we would be making some sweet moves along the sheets quite soon, and that made me look on the bright side of things.       

            We had a chance in life, after all.