you

are the salad, he's the cheeseburger

Robert gazed out of his window. That was a luxury he paid a bit extra for. Many rooms didn't have one. He saw the buildings that had been banks in the 20's and 30's, now being taken over by young renegades, artists who were beginning to move to downtown los angeles in droves. This part of the city had been desolate a decade earlier. Nobody wanted to move her then. Now at hip bars he was meeting USC students, new york city film makers, actors, you name it. But he was also paying under 800 dollars a month.
He drew the shades, sat down on the floor and shut his eyes. Beginning to gaze through the middle of his forehead, he became lost in a silent meditation. This simran, a group of 5 punjabi words had been given to him in india on his travels by a holy man in Julandar. He became lost in a trance- then the phone rang.
'You can't do this.' It was Jimbo Mcgee, his former band's manager. He cursed himself inwardly, knowing better then to just pick up the phone. 'You can't leave like this. You have a duty. I booked shows all through Europe, Japan. It's really a dick move on your part.'
'Listen,' Robert slowly and assertively interrupted him, 'You aren't going to string me along by the golden carrot any longer. They aren't easy to swallow. There was always some reason for me not to stop. Recording my songs in fancy studios with famous producers. Stevie kept treating me like crap. Where were you when he was treating me like crap?'
'I know, Robert. Do you think I'm stupid?' Jimbo took a drag from his american spirit and paced back and forth down the hall of his office. His irish brogue was just as passionate as a decade ago, before he lived in america. 'But think of jaw2jaw like a big supper. Stevie is the cheeseburger. Sexy appealing, and bad for you. Liable to give you a heart attack, raise your cholestorol but oh so full of taste. You, my friend, are the farmer's salad from urth cafe. Full of good organic, or biologike, as the french say, fresh vegetables. Your healthy, but a wee bit boring. That's why you'll never succeed on your own. Everybody needs some protein with their food.'
'The experts, actually, are saying that protein is overrated,' interrupted Robert again. (Interrupting was the only way he could get a word in edge wise.)'So is working with overly assertive assholes who you think are going to push their way through the door for you. They're not only stepping on everyone else's neck, they're stepping on yours as well. I'd rather play at mccabes on my own terms then the staples center on somebody else's.