⚡ September 3, 2015
Things That Are Nice 🐬
So, the brand new radio gig is no more. Boo hoo. I had been sick with minor flu-like symptoms, and the effects linger a tiny bit. Boo hoo. I am 68 years old and am still neglecting my core mission. Really big boo hoo. Still, this stuff adds up and the oddly placed boos and hoos are only there as windows of distraction for any internet trolls who might be cruising by.
The simple fact of the matter is that you shouldn’t go out on the internet looking for your audience. I shouldn’t do that. Some writers might be able to stand the scrutiny or the friendships, but I just can’t. That part of the latest failure wasn’t so much a factor as it was a rationalization. I wanted to talk on the radio and I used the excuse of “audience research” or “finding my voice” to keep me working really long and strange hours into the night.
At the end of the day, I’ve learned the hard lesson that the audience is not something you can just go out and get, like berries at the end of June. It turns out that doing a radio show is a rather demanding suck of all your available time if you want it to be any good. And now that I’ve stepped away from all of that, I can look at the size of the damn thing and wonder just what was I thinking?
Anyway. Writing here, putting in a fun photo or drawing or something, and just healing up the gaping wound that is a public failure. At least it was a digital public, a digital product, and even a digital wound. If I close the computer, it ceases to exist, except in nightmares and constant worry as I wander through the abandoned real world.
The real world turns to ruin if you don’t keep it in mind. My garden sculpting procedures are very overgrown and my ability to do the plank is diminished. My bangs are too long and my Red Room of interesting things is a mess. Everything has been abandoned or neglected, and I am sad about that. I have a lot of ‘splainin to do to the furniture, the floors, the cabinet fronts. The spidery edges of the house, very visible when climbing the spiral stairs.
So, lament. The mocking calendar page has been replaced by a more positive image, and I suggest out loud that I might tackle the paper-filing problem or the getting-a-license journey after not driving for maybe 30 years, or I could get a jump start on this year’s Poor Christmas of homemade gifts. I could do all those things, or I could write something of value, which is why you find these words right here. 🐔