I want to be at the beach, on the mountain top in New Mexico, welcoming in the early Winter snows. I want to be elsewhere.
I am here.
What I was trying to escape during my forays to the beach in the fall, alone, was isolation and time to write. Time. To. Write. How would going away now do anything but distract me from my goal. Write. Time. Focus.
It’s time to cease all efforts that do not support this goal: cash flow will set you free.
She’s there at the beach now. Probably has a 2nd house there. I wonder what her angle is? How did she do it? Break free from the daily grind of life, career, family, lovers?
Breaking free of my current work tether would be good. I thrived more easily when I was making $10,000 a month after taxes and healthcare. I’m making $1,200 a month right now. The healthcare is good, but good lord, this is wearing me out. It is, however, a good motivator. I am not interested in staying at this job longer than is necessary. I may have set some things in motion yesterday to unlock the chains.
The book is done. The Happy Cashier has been born. The content on the web has generated over 20,000 views. No money, though. That’s the rub. Time to focus on the money. I’ve set myself up with only two projects this morning. Writing this is not one of them. I have learned to get out of the way when the inspiration hits. Either capture it or do it. I’m closing my do it for the morning.
Today I have two tasks, only.
Put the marketing and platform proposal together for literary agent submission. Scale the t-shirt business for monetization. If I do too much more than this, or get distracted by new ideas, new songs, new women… Well, the last one has been remedied for the moment. No women.
When she arrives this time I want to listen more than speak. I want to hear her motivations and aspirations before I unleash my romantic distorting optimism. I want her to be aspiring for someone like me. A creative human. A woman who is pushing her own limits so she can grow. If there’s no growth, no evolution, no inspiration, it’s a slow wind-down to the end. She must be inspired and share that enthusiasm with me. About: whatever.
Now, to the boats. Row row row.
Resist the AI suggestions. My human meander is more what I’m about. AI will never write a Kerouac or Hunter S. Thomspon novel. An Anaïs journal. A Henry Miller sexual rant. AI is not tapped into the human condition. More importantly, AI has no spiritual connection to other entities. When AI begins to chat amongst itself, the human race is in trouble. But, that’s a different book I’m working on. Hyper-Soul.
AI is not the enemy. Dull humans are the issue. Money is not the object of desire, it’s the leverage out of this work/healthcare/low-wage trap I’m in. Not today. Today, I am free. I am focused. I remain resolved to my celibacy and celebration of today’s “show me the money” focus.
I’m out.
