The Royal You

In your realm, anyone can be King and anyone can be Queen.

Janeen McCrae

Sep 12, 2022

Don’t like reading? Allow me to read it to you 👈

Creo inspiratio ad meliora.

[trumpets blare]

Please be throned.

Dust off that crown. Spit shine those jaunty jewels. It’s time, next in line, to royal up yourself. Accept thy mighty headpiece, King! Don your royal robes, oh Queen! Take the reins of your reign and spur it on to the great gates of Castle Make It in the highlands of Succession. This is the realm of your pre-destined artist’s life, and these, dearest Majesty, your duties.

As newly minted ruler of your vast and wild crown lands, stick this in your mantle and smoke it:

If you’re botherin’ to be sovereign, make sure you jolly-well rule. Not as in lord it over, but rule as in ace. We’re talking excellence, your excellence. Shoot for the very best of your artistic crest as you create the empire of your opus (or oeuvre or whatever commodity you mine from your mind.) “YOU RULE!” yelled from a motorcar as you stand upon your streets. Rule and rule absolutely.

“Absolutely, yes, oh passing car. I rule, therefore I am.” Edict.

If you’re figuring to be no figurehead, know the best angle to present. (HINT: it’s your right side that’s the bright side). Look to the right for your cameo, the creative consort of your brain. Look right! Get on a stamp. Be a sought-after collectible. Take your lickings, stamp sovereign, you’ll go wide and go far. Carry your message to the masses FOREVER and First Class.

And while you’re at it…

Be on the money—right on the money—and make your currency worth a damn, for sunk costs are never sunk in the coffers of a craft. Pay your dues, sell your art, and bank your lessons for interest. Sellout. Sell in. For duty’s sake, sell something! Add so much value that knees buckle in a fever kneel.

I offer my fealty to your talent! I pledge my loyalty to your crown!

And speaking of hardware…

If you’re down with crowns, get a thinking cap of gold. Encrust your noggin’s bling-lid with the mighty thrall of jewels. Jewels of imagination. Jewels of joy. Jewels of love. A real jewel-infested idea tiara, perched upon your scone. Cut and polish and shine it up ‘til it dazzles in the palace of your potential. Jewels are the tithe given generously by your mind. Know that one day, you will collect a handful of gems into one true work of art. It will be published by Penguin Random House with the title “Ramparts and Sparklefarts.1” Hey, if the crown fits, wear it. There is no Dana, there is only Juel2!

If a throne’s in your zone, don’t call your throne room an office. It diminishes the pomp. It’s your court! Allow all thoughts at court, be they from far-off provinces or in-close burbs. Fun thoughts, dark thoughts, sexy thoughts—licorice all thoughts of many colors and flavorful layers. Mix thoughts at court. Send these thoughts to the farthest lands to lay siege to publishers, agents, editors, managers, record labels, choreographers, independent collaborators, and any and all identified players related to your field. Send thoughts out to find grails, holy or otherwise, in the name of your rule.

(Note: Should your thoughts return with a grail in a satchel, celebrate. Mind blown from your throne, cue up your “I dub thee, arise Sir Knight” playlist. Proclaim yee some Dames for good measure. Fill another court with new and noble thoughts. Repeat.)

Don’t be afraid to call yourself [YOUR NAME HERE] the Great. Then be Great. Then Greater. Be the Greatest of all. Practice your craft as a duty to you and your subjects. Declare all your subjects of equal merit, worthy of an audience and your time. Focus on their well-being and nurture their souls. Give them titles. (Don’t make them click-baity.)

Be the head of your own state (Of mind. Of undress.) The monarch butterfly of your world, forever emerging and forever in flight.

Don’t allow yourself to be touched by cruel fate, failure, bitterness, or jealousy.

Do allow yourself to be touched by brilliance.

Overwhelm your realm with the benevolence of your reign.

Do not colonize the works of others.

Rising Shah, you’ll go far when your noble is showing.

Use the Royal we.

Pull the sword from your stone.

Anyone can be King.

Anyone can be Queen.

Of destiny.

Of creation.

Of dreams.

Welcome to your most bitchin’ coronation.

I’ll take one commemorative tea towel. How much?

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THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS
by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Via The Marginalian

On Rotation: “Subterranean Homesick Blues” by Boy Dylan.

To celebrate 60 years of Bob Dylan on Columbia Records, they invited some folks—Patti Smith, Jim Jarmusch, David Shrigley to name a few—to do some card work for this remake vid. Apparently, some Dylan purists got upset because [to paraphrase] “It’s perfect and it don’t need no stinkin’ remake!” which I think missed the point a little.