by Ray Jason
I began sharing my observations with unknown readers back in June of 2013, there were not very many other writers out here in the Blogosphere. It seemed to me that we were a Fellowship of Outcasts, who would never be granted access to Big Media. But that was fine, because we could express ourselves without the interventions of editors, lawyers and accountants.
In my particular case, the freedom was doubly exhilarating because blogging was not a CAREER for me. As a genuine Sea Gypsy, detached from nations and even from land itself, my expenses were tiny. This allowed me to write as truthfully as I desired. I never had to be wary of “what I said.”
From the very beginning my intention was to create essays that achieved what I called the Three Ps. They should be Poetic, Powerful and Provocative. They were my Leave Behinds that would enrich my dwindling years … what I call my Remainder. When striving to polish each one as best I could, I would feel great joy if after the final edit, I would hear my inner voice say, “Not bad, Ray. Pretty solid.”
For over a dozen years I sent my essays out into the world, hoping that they would be of some value. But a creeping recognition and sadness was starting to trouble me. I did not suddenly contract Writers’ Block. Instead, my ailment was Writers’ Fatigue.
The inescapable reality seemed to be that the efforts of many fine writers, even though they were emancipated from the shackles of The Approved Narrative, had barely slowed the degradation of day to day life for most of Humanity and for the Earth.
The feather-soft surveillance pillow still continues to smother us. The addiction to screens steadily strangles our critical thinking. The financial situation for young people is so dire that they can perhaps dream of a car. But a house or having children are only fantasies.
Meanwhile, as regular people worry about fuel and famine, how have the Elites fared during the first decade of Alternative Media? Far too well.
The politicians continue to undermine the wishes of the people they are supposed to serve. Instead, they dance to the bribes and blackmail of their puppet-masters. The maniacal war-mongers unceasingly indulge their blood lust with high-tech butchery.
Plus, now we have to do battle with a whole new group of Malignant Overlords … the Tech Bros. They are no longer content to just offshore jobs and rob working people of income and dignity. They now want to change the very nature of the Human Being. They want to play God and retool themselves into live-forever Cyber-Super-Beings.
And as for the rest of us, most are expendable due to robots and AI. Presumably, a few will still survive to clean their pools and put mint chocolates on their pillows at night. Oh, wait, robots can do that now.
It all seemed so useless and sad when even powerful Alternative Media titans like Joe Rogan and Tucker Carlson cannot seem to slow the degradation of all that is True and Good and Beautiful. How could my puny efforts be of any value?
And so, about a year ago I moth-balled the battered clipboard that I hand-write my first drafts on, and sailed away from my blog. Have spent my time enjoying the elemental and simple pleasures of friendship, adventure, slow living and as a fine writer once said, “messing about in boats.”
But at that time I also made a promise to myself that when a certain birthday rolled around, I would revisit that decision. This is that day.
Today, I will decide whether to put my battered Quixote Helmet back on my head, hoist my Laptop Lance and return to battle.
“Are you certain that is a mere windmill, Sancho? Me thinks it may be a Dark Knight.”
While on sabbatical I finished my new book. It is entitled Sea Gypsy Memories. I insisted that it be very affordable at only $8 for either paperback or ebook.
Here is the link: SEA GYPSY MEMORIES
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Continue reading...
[ H/T The Burning Platform ]
I began sharing my observations with unknown readers back in June of 2013, there were not very many other writers out here in the Blogosphere. It seemed to me that we were a Fellowship of Outcasts, who would never be granted access to Big Media. But that was fine, because we could express ourselves without the interventions of editors, lawyers and accountants.
In my particular case, the freedom was doubly exhilarating because blogging was not a CAREER for me. As a genuine Sea Gypsy, detached from nations and even from land itself, my expenses were tiny. This allowed me to write as truthfully as I desired. I never had to be wary of “what I said.”
From the very beginning my intention was to create essays that achieved what I called the Three Ps. They should be Poetic, Powerful and Provocative. They were my Leave Behinds that would enrich my dwindling years … what I call my Remainder. When striving to polish each one as best I could, I would feel great joy if after the final edit, I would hear my inner voice say, “Not bad, Ray. Pretty solid.”
For over a dozen years I sent my essays out into the world, hoping that they would be of some value. But a creeping recognition and sadness was starting to trouble me. I did not suddenly contract Writers’ Block. Instead, my ailment was Writers’ Fatigue.
The inescapable reality seemed to be that the efforts of many fine writers, even though they were emancipated from the shackles of The Approved Narrative, had barely slowed the degradation of day to day life for most of Humanity and for the Earth.
The feather-soft surveillance pillow still continues to smother us. The addiction to screens steadily strangles our critical thinking. The financial situation for young people is so dire that they can perhaps dream of a car. But a house or having children are only fantasies.
Meanwhile, as regular people worry about fuel and famine, how have the Elites fared during the first decade of Alternative Media? Far too well.
The politicians continue to undermine the wishes of the people they are supposed to serve. Instead, they dance to the bribes and blackmail of their puppet-masters. The maniacal war-mongers unceasingly indulge their blood lust with high-tech butchery.
Plus, now we have to do battle with a whole new group of Malignant Overlords … the Tech Bros. They are no longer content to just offshore jobs and rob working people of income and dignity. They now want to change the very nature of the Human Being. They want to play God and retool themselves into live-forever Cyber-Super-Beings.
And as for the rest of us, most are expendable due to robots and AI. Presumably, a few will still survive to clean their pools and put mint chocolates on their pillows at night. Oh, wait, robots can do that now.
It all seemed so useless and sad when even powerful Alternative Media titans like Joe Rogan and Tucker Carlson cannot seem to slow the degradation of all that is True and Good and Beautiful. How could my puny efforts be of any value?
And so, about a year ago I moth-balled the battered clipboard that I hand-write my first drafts on, and sailed away from my blog. Have spent my time enjoying the elemental and simple pleasures of friendship, adventure, slow living and as a fine writer once said, “messing about in boats.”
But at that time I also made a promise to myself that when a certain birthday rolled around, I would revisit that decision. This is that day.
Today, I will decide whether to put my battered Quixote Helmet back on my head, hoist my Laptop Lance and return to battle.
“Are you certain that is a mere windmill, Sancho? Me thinks it may be a Dark Knight.”
While on sabbatical I finished my new book. It is entitled Sea Gypsy Memories. I insisted that it be very affordable at only $8 for either paperback or ebook.
Here is the link: SEA GYPSY MEMORIES
Tweet
Continue reading...
[ H/T The Burning Platform ]
