Pretty Need Machine
When is Enough, Enough? Thoughts on Rick Rubin, Polymarket and our Insatiable Need for More
So, I traveled to Hot Take City today on my Instagram stories after I saw Rick Rubin shilling for Polymarket. Polymarket, as most of you know, is a prediction market platform that allows you to bet on anything. Who will win the World Cup? What shoes will this player wear? When will this celebrity relapse? Literally, anything.
The comments on the post were largely a crime scene for Rubin (not that I think he cares). Future and Peso Pluma were also in the spot, but artists taking money for brand deals isn’t notable these days. (Hell, my first thought was, “I hope they negotiated for equity.”)
That said, an avant-garde music producer, known exclusively for two things: his famed discography and his intense meditation practice, hawking a betting platform felt like a wild juxtaposition. But, wait… it gets better. According to Crunchbase, Rubin is a Series C investor in Polymarket.
Bruh, what.
I’m trying to follow the mental gymnastics that involve devotion to a practice centered around non attachment and minimalism contrasted with the most peak capitalist vibe you can imagine.
Two things can be true. Sure. But also, doesn’t dude have enough? I don’t really give a fuck that Rubin has an investment portfolio. I do give a fuck that someone whose career exists because of and in service to artists (and just a refresher: most artists don’t make a living wage) would choose an investment so paradoxical.
Anyhow, he’s getting flamed. I hope it’s a moment of reckoning and awareness for him. To clarify, I’m not against brand deals or investments. I am against seemingly unethical brand deals and investments. If it’s benefiting the few and not the many - I call it unethical. Gambling doesn’t make the world a better place.
I was already thinking of writing this piece when I saw the ad today. I had been thinking about the genesis and evolution (eg. implosion) of my own career. Losing almost everything helps with that kind of introspection.
I have had a long career at the intersection of music and tech. First, I was a touring artist. Broke. I was also a music journalist. Still broke. Then I started doing a bit of front end hacking for fun… ding ding ding. Wound up with a career in music and tech working pre-IPO for Twitter as their first Head of Music and then other tech joints. I made a lot of money. A lot, lot. Like 1%er money.
And I did all the things… bought the dream car. Bought a house (this first gen kid never dreamed that would be possible). Bought the fancy shit. Biz class everything. Stopped playing shows. Stopped writing music as often. I became the cliché you read about. I was living a life I didn’t care about, but I didn’t know that’s what was happening. It was like the frog in boiling water thing (great album by DIIV, by the way).
Anyhow, the last six years… I lost almost all of it and thank God.
The short story: I got seriously and mysteriously ill. I had to leave my big girl CMO job. After five months of misdiagnosis, turned out I had mold illness. My house was riddled with mold. Mold blows, buddies. It is debilitating and expensive to treat, be it for your health or your home. My ex-husband worked in the non profit space, so my equity and savings floated us through three home remediations and my inability to work. No, insurance did not cover it. My bank account went to near zero. Worst of all, our two dogs died of cancer (probably because of the mold). It was awful.
Everything I had placed my stability in evaporated (including my marriage).
My problems went from shit like, “Do I look old? Should I get lasers?” to “What’s wrong with me?! Am I dying of ALS?” and / or “Are we going to lose the house?” (The former is more fun than the latter.) I went from a sense of control to a free-wheeling faith in the mysterious unknown. I had no idea what my life was anymore. I chose to trust that there was something benevolent coming out of this crucible.
I remember an old timer in recovery saying to me at the depths of my despair, “Sometimes things are broken down so they can be built back the right way.”
She was right.
My life looks different now. I have learned what “enough” looks like. I hope to own a home again, if not - who cares. It doesn’t determine my worth. I am grateful for my health every fucking day. Little things like the ability to eat gluten and dairy again after MCAS for years? Are you kidding me?! Amazing. I write music all the time. I let myself do things I’m great at (keys) and things I’m awful at (bass). I am surrounded by people I fucking love and have boundaried or dropped all the vampires.
I don’t have as much as I used to, but I’m no longer driven by the internal need machine. I meditate daily (which isn’t new, but more effective now). Meditation keeps me present. But ego-death introspection and change came from being dragged through the fire the old fashioned way. Most importantly, I am happy and have real peace.
I don’t know what the point of all this is except - I want you to know that happiness isn’t out there. It’s in here. Right now. This moment. It is a choice, not a destination. And it doesn’t require a single investment to hit. Bet on that.
