Writing start: 8:09 A.M.
Finish: 12:57 P.M.
Total new words (est.): 800
Edited (est.): 3200Tasks
1. Failure: Fifth primary edit of the epilogue
2. Book Three Melody: Off
3. Angel: Book Three: 400 new words
Notes: I believe it's called "the dark night of the soul."
4. Random Chance Book Two: Off
5. Port Story: 200 new words
Notes: It's always best when writing not to exhaust the vein you're mining, so to speak.
6. Hidden Bookmarks: Read-through of chapter two
7. LOTR: 200 new words
Notes: Krapp's adventures continue!
8. T-Bag: Off till 7/8
Special Projects: None today
Extra notes: Do I have an audience?
Who knows? My pageviews, quite possibly, could all be from bots.
Including the digital variety.
The trouble is--which is worse?
In the ongoing effort to make a living writing, it has become more than amply clear that making a living as a writer is only half as difficult as finding a community of friends through my writing. Everybody is content to be a lurker or passerby, remaining safely anonymous and uninvolved, perhaps dropping by only to occasionally gank fractal art for their desktop or phone.
This path has been a desperately lonely one. But then--my entire life path has proven to be so, even when--especially when--I thought it wasn't so. The friends I thought I had back in the day weren't. And as far as family goes, the only true family I ever had until 2008 was my mom, who died in 1984.
The "friends" back then weren't interested in friendship, but a lifestyle. I was just a bullet point on their cute little brochures. When they married, that bullet point became a liability, so it--I--was eliminated.
And here I was, utterly deluded that I had actual friends.
Much of my writing concerns friendship. It really isn't a surprise, given the above. Friendship is, in my view, the highest human relationship attainable. I fully realize how much of a minority opinion that is, how much, even, a radical opinion it is. I don't intend to defend my thesis here: my published works do that pretty well, I think.
One of the great failings of our times is that this is a friendless age. It may in fact be the greatest failing. For if we were true friends, then we would know what true friendship is, what it requires, what keeps it alive, what grows it and honors it and sustains it. Were that true, then we would, quite naturally, understand that such an ethical framework extends to everything, even Mother Earth.
Instead we continue to destroy her, and continue to do so even though the science has made crystal clear that doing so will destroy us, likely before the end of this century. Don't believe me? Look it the fuck up! I've posted numerous links detailing that from completely reputable sources over the past half-year and longer in this space; if you've been too lazy to click through and educate your sorry ass, then you, doofus, are most definitely part of the problem!
My pageviews the past two weeks have dropped, likely because I've insulted and harangued and yelled at too many nondigital bots too many times.
It is insane staying quiet when so much mendacity, maliciousness, apathy, and hatred rage each day. It is insane to destroy your soul for a lifestyle. But that is what the vast majority of you do day-in and day-out. Your brochures impress only those who also have and maintain brochures. They don't impress authentic souls, real souls, souls who understand the value of real friendship and work daily to realize it in their lives.
Such as me.