This blog is unplanned, I had no real intention of writing a blog article to publish but in doing this it will help make this blog eventually complete with exactly 75 articles. This is, therefore, the 75th article but it’s being posted in the 63rd article’s place…there is, you see, a plan at hand, a method to this madness and like any book, film, television show or piece of music…it eventually will have an end. I have a limited number of article to complete, I’ve a loose timeline as well, but I do indeed know in general what every remaining article will be about; I’ve been thinking about this that much. That’s what I’m supposed to do, as an author, as someone who has a share in a publishing company, I have to pay attention and make things like blogs, social media outlets and other quasi-marketing systems work. My problem is with the notion of marketing, I have a Bachelor’s in Marketing and it’s my least favorite subject of study. I am more into the idea of writing to find myself and screw the public than writing to find the public while screwing myself in the process…I don’t do this for anyone but myself, really. I share my thoughts freely because, I’ve come to hear, other people enjoy sharing those thoughts with me. I make people laugh or feel better. I cause people to think or react, but even that, in a weird way, is for myself. I get as much from the interactions with my audience, which in turn shapes or at very least cause me to think, consider or entertain a notion I might not have otherwise not found on my own. So I share these things that I’m writing mostly for myself because in the process everyone seems to like it well enough. No harm in that, I think it’s part of the uniquely human experience of the arts.
But it’s not marketing, is it? By definition of my college educations, there are numerous statistics, psycho-metrics and proven techniques to identify, capture and dominate any segment of the marketplace. That’s not what I’m doing, not at all…I don’t even pay attention to how many readers I get or what sort of traffic I’m generating unless somebody else is asking for the information. I love to fuck with systems too, I’m always deleting the number of views, altering the number of followers or views because to me, it’s all a bunch of fucking bullshit. I truly like personal contact, the wall between “the artist” and “the public” is silly, if only because “the artist” is then removed from the very fabric which is worth celebrating, depicting or engaging with to begin to with…perhaps that’s why Hollywood sucks so much, they’re bloody clueless sometimes and when they get something truly great, it’s almost ALWAYS by accident (and often by an “unknown”). I envision a more eclectic, one by one sort of spreading the word. It’s always better in person, it’s always more memorable when it’s with others, a few others not the whole the world; that’s my plan, anyway. But fuck that, why the hell would I want to write about marketing plans at midnight on a Saturday fucking night?!?
I should be fucking, I should be having sex but that’s just happening around our house these days. I don’t complain, why bother, it might change and it might not. Like anything, you can’t always get what you want but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need. So what does d’Philip need this Saturday night? I could tell you, but it’s pornographic and would simply be frustrating. More frustrating for me than you, you’d just perhaps be uncomfortable if I told what I really need right now! Next to that, setting aside the vast universe of cyber porn as well, what does d’Philip need to feel alright on this lonely, cool October night? I went for a walk, I watched a 45 minute episode of some lame television show and now I’m writing this random, unscheduled blog…I might like to play some music, but the family is in bed and heading towards sleep besides playing guitar with headphones on is a drag. I’d go to a club if I were in Chicago, I enjoy the music, people watching and flirting but here in The San Joaquin, it’s rather sleepy. There are a few joints…cowboy bars, farmer’s taverns…up in Modesto there’s a few trendy-like dance clubs full of pretty little kids dancing to thumping sounds and paying way too much for their drinks…I saw this cool looking biker bar I might like, but it’s a beer joint and I don’t even drink beer, so yeah…the bottom line is that my days of going to the club for fun are long over and it’s just as well too…it ain’t what it used to be, is it? So again, d’Philip…what do you need?
I need to connect. I need to feel like somebody is getting me, somehow…they understand and listen. That’s all, no advice, no judgments…just listen, hear me out, hear my voice. That’s something I need, but where’s a fucking therapist when you need one, right? I wouldn’t want a therapist either, they don’t interact well…listening is still a dialogue, it’s an art and like music, the people involved need to be in sync, on the beat, in tune…but that would be good for me, that’s something I really need. How do I get that need addressed at this random hour? I used to have a wife that connected with me, but we’re completely out of sync, out of tune and the only beat we keep together is on what our 18 year kid is doing…she thinks I’ve changed, and perhaps parts of me have evolved but I don’t think leopards change spots too much, neither do people in my experience…so yeah, something about me has certainly grown, which is change but I’m still the same weed I was when she married me 20 years ago. I don’t think she’s changed, although I think her behavior has changed recently…but she’s not any different than she’s ever been as far as I can see…she’s better than ever in many ways, in fact…stronger, smarter and more confident…but she was that when I met her, she was a 19 year old version of the 40 year old woman she is today. But we don’t connect these days, we haven’t since we relocated to California.
That doesn’t answer the puzzle, how does d’Philip get what he needs, if it’s a connection, right now? I could go on craigslist…nah, that’s creepy. I could find some chat group, I guess…some kind of hang-out, but I long for personalities I’m familiar with, not strangers. I miss my friends, both the ones I have that grace my good door and the ones I share an on-line connection with…nobody seems to be around, everybody is probably having a better time than me…waaa-wah! No, most are probably asleep, stoned with couch lock and television or having sex (those bastards)!
It’s not looking good, d’Philip, if you do say say so myself, I think we should find you an alternate plan for the evening. I guess there’s sleep, in my dreams anything, everything can happen and that’s always fun…but I’m not sleepy. The wife is watching silly television in bed anyway and I hate that shit…especially if I’m trying to sleep. Reading, I could find something to read and that would be another great distraction. I presently only have one book that I have not read, “Damned” by Chuck Palahniuk…the cover is cool and the girl who gave to me was a “fan” of mine…perhaps that’s what I’ll do, maybe this is what I actually need to connect with…a new story.
Okay well…the time is EXACTLY “12:34” as I start this final paragraph and to me that’s an agreement from the universe which tells me, it’s an easy choice…go curl up on the sofa, with the ailing puppy and this random book…maybe have a late night hit of cannabis, a piece of chocolate and then let the night just fall away. This seems like a good place to stop. This is enough to for the “make up” blog, the 75th blog article in this odd 63rd position…I didn’t exactly get what I really want (sex, remember?) I have faith I’m getting something I need, whether I know it or not, this is what I’m going to do and it’ll simply have to do, dig? Thank you for taking the time to read this nothingness, I apologize if it’s been a waste of any kind…but in the meanwhile, we’ll publish again on or about every Thursday until there are exactly 75 articles in this “BiPolar Reality Dispatch” blog…until again, my friends…take care, be well and stay safe!
