the wizard
Four months ago today, I was as “public” as a ghost at a masquerade ball—present but unnoticed, hiding behind a mask of old habits. The Wizard of Oz, if you will. For most of my life, my voice was reserved for backrooms and boardrooms, fluent in the language of contracts, deals, and corporate chess. I wasn’t exactly a man of few words; I just chose them carefully—usually to suit someone else’s agenda.
But life, as it tends to do, had other plans. Or maybe it was karma, the ultimate cosmic comedian, stepping in and saying, “Time to shake things up, Joe.” And by shake, I mean tearing me wide open—literally and figuratively. An injury due to the lawsuit stress forced me to stop, sit still, and listen. For once in my life, I actually heard my friends and allies telling me the old ways—business as usual—needed to end. I wasn’t just venting; I was planting breadcrumbs for you to follow, each one leading to the Rube Goldberg machine that is my current plan. Every post, tag, and move has had a purpose. Anyone starting to see where this is going yet?
Isn’t it funny to think I’ve only been public for four months? That’s barely enough time for a toddler to master walking, let alone for someone like me to go from silent operator to full-throated advocate. Yet here I am, standing on my soapbox, sober for just a few days longer than I’ve been public. Coincidence? Probably not.
You see, I’ve always been a man of the old ways—an Italian horn around my neck, my grandpa’s pinky ring on the same chain, the horn tattooed down my arm, loyalty to a fault, and a belief that the world could be handled with enough grit, chess moves, envelopes, and, if necessary, a well-timed wrench swing. (Long story—ask my family.)
But the truth is, the old ways kept me locked in a cycle I didn’t even realize I was in. If karma hadn’t stepped in and knocked me flat, I might have stayed that way—silent, corporate, and comfortable in someone else’s narrative. Even when it was screwing me over, I stayed loyal to it.
Now? Now, I’m rewriting the story. Four months sober, four months public, and somehow, the words that used to escape me are pouring out. Turns out, I’m pretty good at talking. (Who knew?)
What’s the moral of the story? Sometimes, you’ve got to be torn open to find your voice. And when karma steps in, it’s not always punishment—it’s a push in the right direction.
To anyone still stuck in the old ways, consider this your nudge. Find your voice, tell your story, and don’t wait for karma to shove you into the spotlight. And if you’re afraid of retaliation, send it my way at the artist submission page on the 312ALL website. I’ll talk about it on the F'nAround Podcast, socials, or the F'nAround Morning Show on WURE-FM Underground Memphis Radio. Catch up now at FnAround.com.
CannaConsigliere