As to the emails…yes, I’ve received them all and I apologize for not answering any of them. The reason? They all ask the same question, or pretty close to it: “Why did you stop writing?”
I didn’t stop writing. I never stop writing. I can’t stop writing, no writer can. I only stopped writing that which I’ve written in a thousand different ways using what seems an infinite combination of words to say, we are losing our country because we are either unwilling to fight for it out of fear, laziness, confusion or a combination of the three and a host of other reasons too complex to discuss here. More on that in a later post.
My hiatus, if you want to call it that…more of a working hiatus if there is such a thing, has been conscious, in fact a very conscious effort to regroup and rethink after the election. I’ve been spending a lot of time with my family as well, which in terms of therapy for political melancholia cannot be overstated for its effectiveness. You try having five grandchildren under the age of four climbing all over you at once and tell me it isn’t great fun. It’s precisely what the doctor ordered for me after the November debacle (which I have figured out for you and will discuss in my next post. P.S. It’s not that bad, you’ll see, so don’t lose hope or faith).
Thinking, that’s right, thinking about why and how and all that, but also coming to terms with the real ramifications of an Obama second term. More on that later too.
For now, I want to express in the best way I can the mechanics of my two month thinking process, the reasons for explaining will develop on their own.
I smoked my pipes. Yes, that’s precisely what I did, I smoked my four new pipes every night for about an hour. I sipped a glass of Jack Daniel’s in the process too. Then I performed my nightly toilette after which I climbed into bed feeling much was right with the world I wouldn’t have noticed had I not performed the contemplative, restful, incredibly peaceful ritual.
Normally at this point in one of my essays I would wax philosophical, political, perhaps religious, but this time I want to gush commercially…not about me, my books or the new projects I have lined up, but about the company from which I bought my last four pipes, Milan Tobacconists of Roanoke, Virginia, check them out here. It is because of them I enjoyed the entire experience, let me explain.
I’m one of those people who agonizes over every purchasing decision, not so much for the expense, but for low expectations. The buying process, especially over the Internet is fraught with angst potential. In most instances, I hate it, and just when I’m ready to swear off buying anything more, like a degenerate gambler I go right back in. On those rare occasions when I’m relatively satisfied with the purchase and have a score of 3 or 4 on my buyer’s remorse scale of 10, I’m happy. Imagine the ecstasy when not only the buying process, but the product was exactly what I wanted and the customer service so good I felt the next step could only be a proposal of marriage to the woman managing the whole thing except she’s already married. Now, imagine this idyllic commercial interaction happening four times in a row. You don’t have to imagine, it did.
Milan Tobacconists sold me four pipes (soon to be five) and all I can say about the experience(s) is “unbelievable” because when in the American purchasing culture all the pieces of the transaction fit perfectly, it is truly unbelievable…only with Milan it’s normal every time. The proof is in the four separate transactions…they all went perfectly.
I bring this whole thing up for myriad reasons, chief among them the four transactions could have gone badly or been marginal, I expected they would or at least one would be so-so, but they weren’t, they were all tens. And before you go off saying, “So what?” I want you to first ask yourself when the last time was you had a transaction that scored a ten? If it happens at all, it’s rare.
But the real reason I’m making such an issue out of Milan is that the way they conducted business I did not have to spend one second of my time worrying about the buying process from start to finish. For someone as hyper and manic as me, that is nirvana. Instead of dealing with an angst riddled mind and soul, I could spend all my time ruminating about political and social issues, those I will have to begin writing about again very soon. Such a gift from so abstract a condition and from people I only know as Renèe Meyer who runs the company with her husband David, means a great deal to me because I do agonize over the details of life and am personally affronted whenever I perceive a slight whether it be personal or business. In most cases it’s my fault in the first place, but that doesn’t make it any better for me, knowing I’m at fault makes it worse…another thing I have to think about, but wish I didn’t.
So, if you’re not a pipe smoker, that’s too bad, it’s better than Valium and I would suggest far less harmful. But if you are a pipe smoker, you would be well served, extremely well served by doing business with Renèe and David Meyer at Milan Tobacconists.
As to PJ Fusco On The News…we’re back. Now get ready for the revolution, because it’s coming.