By Mark Antony Rossi
I once said in an earlier book I wrote, Ingratitude makes me want to murder.”
We all have our red line. My red line is people forgetting the generous folks willing to help them. Now I already have a bad temper so this grievous Sin is not going to help matters. For me.
In the world of the Arts it’s quite common to run into people wanting everything they can grab and willing to do next to nothing in return. It can be a world full of creative wonder and honorable actions. And it can be a world of selfish cardboard cutouts.
The characters in the Arts can be as varied as the stories, poems and plays they introduce to the public. Sadly, the human condition, often documented by artistic types, is on full display to those of us behind the scenes. And it’s none too pretty.
Whether you have a microscopic mind and choose to berate people because they call out your favorite drug-addled moronic musician or whether you put out seven thousand books a week and ignore nearly every decent person who lent you a hand is why there are more knife wounds in the average artist than combat soldiers in the Middle East.
These scenarios and more are the direct result of ingratitude. The careless neglect of others. The nagging requests for book reviews only to pretend you are ill when they need a boost in promotion. The endless ME ME ME when it should be WE WE WE. There should be no competition in the Arts but sadly in secret there is an unhealthy amount. Like a black mold on the ceiling of your den. You breathe it in until you are affected and changed into a lesser version of yourself.
A majority of ingratitude comes from a group of artists whom are not so talented and care less about values or vision. Their religion is the mirror wearing a dollar store western hat and cheap sunglasses. They are jealous of those whom they call friends and use their connections to further their own ends. The grateful are grateful because they care about others and realize the universe seldom forgets to visit misfortune on the phony freeloaders.
Ingratitude is a cancer on the soul. It deeply erodes the artistic community with far greater consequences than the financial vampires stealing money through half-assed vanity projects. Ingratitude is all too human a condition as to be labeled the First Sin in the Garden of Eden. To cast off all that was provided just to sample forbidden fruit. We are trapped in that cycle of stupidity and insecurity.
If you ask: is it too late to change your lazy ways? I say no. But I also say you owe more than an apology and a book review. You owe a commitment to making the artistic community a better place. Start by taking off the mask, costume and dopey shades. Gratitude is about being unafraid to show your face. It falls right in line with Pride.
Indian Periodical
Indian Periodical