An open letter to my readers

4♥

 

 
I cross myself in the traditional catholic way and pray every single time I sit down to write.

 

You may not know that.

 

Not trying to win points; I’m a shitty catholic.

 

But it is true.

 

And this blog has been about the truth the whole time.

 

It’s not changing in that regard.

 

Ever.

 

 

 

Another truth:

 

I’m tired.

 

I’ve been fighting this (culture) war for 30 years (31 in a week or so when I turn 47).

 

Fucking exhausted, if I’m being profanely honest.

 

I won’t boor you with details of my absence so I’ll simply leave it at:

 

I’ve lost everything that didn’t literally fit in a duffel bag.

 

Cars, a motorcycle, book collections, writings, irreplaceable (award winning) photographs.

 

The last wound delivered by my decade-long suicide attempt.

 

But I’m still here.

 

 

 

Imagine my surprise at my return to find twitter aflame with the ‘sphere blasting itself to pieces and charlatans around every corner.

 

Posturing and infighting.

 

Grift and grief.

 

For years, now, they’ve been saying “the ‘sphere is dead”.

 

With everyone shouting blame.

 

Well, as usual, I’ll give the answer you didn’t request and probably won’t like:

 

Who killed it?

 

The readers.

 

Why?

 

Because con-men are only as successful as the number of suckers they ensnare.

 

If one is seeking easy solutions and honeyed words then one should expect to be duped.

 

Life is not that easy.

 

Of course I’m releasing my readers from culpability.

 

But, as usual, I can do so honestly.

 

Because I’ve sold nothing but promises of diamonds after a long and arduous dig.

 

I’ve never said I was anything but a broke – and broken – fat man trying to get his shit together again while sharing the wisdom gleaned from his voluminous mistakes smoothed by 90 proof lubricant [Devil’s Cut is 90 proof but 80 proof is what I briefly drank when this all began].

 

 

 

What does this mean for this blog?

 

The tone will change for a while.

 

It’ll be deeply personal regarding the struggle to return to normalcy (from my self-imposed, inebriated, shut-in exile) and cope with aging in a world unrecognizable to me.

 

If that is uninteresting to you, then I sincerely thank you for the time we’ve shared and wish you the happiest of trails.

 

If, instead, it’s something that captures your curiosity:

 

Then saddle up; we ride again.

 

Because, as I wrote in my first book:

 

You’ll either live to be my age ̶

 

or you won’t.

 

4♥