Writing the Dope City Free Press is but one of the things I do with no expectation of monetary reward. What I do get out of it is entertaining myself (if I was not doing so I would have stopped long ago); being further entertained by the knowledge you read this shit and send me some feedback every once in a while (most recently it has been fucking heart warming); and an increased willingness on my part to add to my pile of life experience some experiences I probably would have passed up except for getting a chance to write about them for the DCFP's small, quality audience.
I have always found writing to be one life's best entertainments. All the more because I have no expectations of prizes, riches or any of that. I have never had any ambition for fame or riches. I am happy not to miss meals and get loaded every now and then. I am not that good at this writing business and probably never will be. I am a sawmill worker who just happens to be lucky enough to be literate. That is enough for me. Food on the table, whiskey on the table and the means to buy a new typewriter when necessary.
Having an audience is quite another matter. Audience for any performer is pretty fucking abstract. Outside of my closest friends and family I have met few people who read these, for the most part, carefully chosen words. The best thing is I know every so often I make you laugh. That is the gold in my lunch bucket. I wish I did not have to make you cry but I would not be a writer if I did not do so. Nevertheless that is the silver in my lunch bucket. Sorry about that, motherfuckers.
My experience set will increase further still as time goes by. I am doing shit this very minute I will write about when the time is right and plans are already in the works to do something I have never done before on the weekend I will write about soon.
Thanks again for reading. I love you motherfuckers.
5 comments:
Raising my glass and sending warm thoughts to you, Sonja, and The Hammer. Filling the void of not having her around must be really hard. I adopted a small mixed terrier last year who was already named Abby. I call her Little Shit. First time in my life I am responsible enough to take care of something other than a dope habit. I know that love and bond now. Little Shit is on my lap as I write this.
She says
"woof woof"
"Cheers Beer"
Upon reading the first of your posts (for me), I was immediately struck by your sense of style and flair, your escritory timing and incisive sense of the underpinnings of society. The homey touch of the inclusion of Sonya and the Hammer, the long walks in the woods, the deep political and social engagement and the cautionary tales of altered states are worthy of all the adoration that your readers bring to their encounters with Dope City Free Press. Any love on your part is surely and entirely requited.
Oh and I had to share the Bertuzzi Principle with my stepson a couple of years back.
So glad to hear you will continue to write, as I appreciate it, anonymous person I am. I have told you before and I will again: you are one of the very few honest people on the internet. Thank you and keep up the great work!
Condolences to you Beer and Sonja.
The Hammer will always be in your hearts. Greatly missed but never forgotten. The good memories of companionship and love will age well over the years, but for now I know from experience it can be really hard. I hope you took lots of photos of The Hammer... I would look forward on occasion to you posting them. He was a big part of your blog for me. I think a very human touch that we appreciated.
Always enjoy your unique perspectives and writing Beer.
Being sponsored by a distillery sounds like your dream job and I am sure the distlery would be getting all its money back.
Cheers
I am sorry to read of the Hammer's passing.
Be glad she had good family around her to the last.
I am not good at offering words of comfort at times like these. Most of the time I shy away from intruding on another's grief. Silver and gold. All the more valuable for its being freely mined.
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