Thirty True Fans
Well, that didn’t last long.
I’ve toyed with the title of this post, asked myself “What’s the goal?”, and decided I’d leave it here -“Thirty True Fans” – where it’s been a while, a title only, because in fact that is the goal.
The not lasting long was my re-entry into the world of nine to five working stiffs, as I spent my last day on the job yesterday, and am now – again – a free man, perhaps not in Paris, but dreaming about it.
I am going to ask for your help, your support, your love. More on that in a bit.
I was working 24 hours a week in a “helping” job, helping people, and while it would be, I think, pompous or holier than though or something akin to say I left the job for “ethical” reasons, it wasn’t far from that. I have created a philosophy over a long career of what it means to be “human” in “human services”, the tangible, hope-filled energy and devotion necessary to perhaps show the way from here to a better there, and my vision clashed with the reality of where I landed back in the world of employment. So I couldn’t and wouldn’t do it. Yeah, I brought some theater to the workplace – you could call it guerrilla theater if you’re familiar with that concept – but likely not enough, certainly not enough to sustain me. In the end I gave four weeks notice, per policy, and they told me they only needed two. Possibly the feeling was mutual. There was no one begging me to stay.
Seventy years old, back to work for seven weeks, now unemployed again, once more on the government dole, where barely enough is the norm – in this case joyously and wildly gratefully accepted – a trade I have consciously made with a thrill in my heart and new maps for journeys glittering in my mind’s eye, journeys out there where there may be dragons. Moving forward. Forward.
I need 30 true fans. I cannot do this alone. Yin and yang. True fans will buy my books – all of them – the ones published, the ones in the pipeline. True fans will buy my greeting cards, supporting the creation of more. True fans will wait eagerly, and loyally, for the next short story, the next charcoal drawing, the next 30 x 40 painting – the next poem. The stories I have to tell.
Working for the man didn’t last long and now I’m signed up to work for the planet. I am hoping you will come along for the ride. Actually, I’m counting on it.