The predictable libertarian scolds are reacting to this essay as if I'm demanding to use someone else's labor. Which is absurd. I didn't touch on the dynamic that underpins many of Twitter's deplatforming decisions -- in particular, how they were directed by government in concert with private companies to circumvent first amendment protections (as it was in my case) -- but I will say that as the country devolves into something unrecognizable, the doctrinaire libertarians will be the last people standing in a puddle of purity congratulating themselves for having remained true to a free market that hasn't existed here in nearly a century.
Don't underestimate the gift you give to others by continuing to write and by refusing to throw in the towel. I just took a snapshot of my world view and it includes "well Jeff is still writing, still fighting to prop up his portion of the universe, without even needing to say 'hold my beer' so...maybe I should step up my game as well."
Also this: I studied Tai Chi for a few years, long ago (so I can fight off a sloth attack should the occasion arise) and I was taught to keep my eyes focused through the sloth I'm battling, rather than trying to focus on his every movement. A thousand yards seems about right. I use this when I'm feeling overwhelmed walking through a crowded street. I focus right through them and the crowd just seems to flow around me. I don't know whether alcohol is a good way to get to that thousand yard stare, but the thing itself is a source of power.
I and some others have been pushing to get your account reactivated. And I keep hoping. Until then, please keep writing as protein wisdom has remained one of the small islands of intelligence and -mostly- sanity in this increasingly nutso world we inhabit.
Just watched The Hours for the first time, now I'm finding myself finding some similarities in your (hopefully fictional) alcoholic buzz-seeking and Virginia Woolf's lifelong bout with depression, albeit sans substances. Her release was writing. Ed Harris's character, Richard, had his release in poetry. Neither of those two had happy endings. But you're strong and above all of that. Just keep writing. There's a book (or three, or four) in you. Cheers!
Hey man. I feel like I've been reading your stuff forever, and it was a good day to find you on Substack. I doubt that info spins your world around to a new orientation, but just felt it should be said. I have read & written amusing, interesting, educational, thought-provoking, ridiculous, vicious, lovely stuff on the internet since the early '90s (ye olde Usenette), using whatever worked best for me at the time. That damn bird is just another one, to me, although I know it means much more to others. I empathize with that (I still miss early Usenet) and hope your account is restored, while also hoping you'll stay 'reborn' here, too.
Strategy and tactics - orientation is the schwerpunkt. Good luck!
I would have thought it would have been a dram of Laphroig in your hand, but whatever. All I can say on my end, is that I think you’re the best at what you do. Always have been. We readers may not be much, but we love you, Jeff. Keep on keeping on, brother.
All I could think of while reading this alcoholic introspection was my hero Hunter S. Thompson. He seemed to have figured out how to optimize his addictions to create really fun to read prose. But, even as the son, nephew and grandson of many Irish alcoholics I've tried for years, even into my '70s, to emulate my hero and ancestors, I fail constantly. I can't stand the hangovers, even the mini hangovers. I just feel physically so much better sober. I drink plenty but if I get drunk, or, more likely, just over drink, I feel horrible for a day or 2. I can't work, I can't play I just have to sleep until it goes away. I really like sleeping these days but I also really like doing all kinds of sports, not that I'm particularly good at any of them I just like them. Me thinks alcoholism is not in my future. I hope you can find a place that works better than ultra frustration with the imperfections of life.
While I've not been suspended (or a user) on Twitter, I think I might be at a similar place only NO to Mic Ultra (sumpin sumpin de gustabus) and I come with my own Buffett tunes.
The predictable libertarian scolds are reacting to this essay as if I'm demanding to use someone else's labor. Which is absurd. I didn't touch on the dynamic that underpins many of Twitter's deplatforming decisions -- in particular, how they were directed by government in concert with private companies to circumvent first amendment protections (as it was in my case) -- but I will say that as the country devolves into something unrecognizable, the doctrinaire libertarians will be the last people standing in a puddle of purity congratulating themselves for having remained true to a free market that hasn't existed here in nearly a century.
Don't underestimate the gift you give to others by continuing to write and by refusing to throw in the towel. I just took a snapshot of my world view and it includes "well Jeff is still writing, still fighting to prop up his portion of the universe, without even needing to say 'hold my beer' so...maybe I should step up my game as well."
Also this: I studied Tai Chi for a few years, long ago (so I can fight off a sloth attack should the occasion arise) and I was taught to keep my eyes focused through the sloth I'm battling, rather than trying to focus on his every movement. A thousand yards seems about right. I use this when I'm feeling overwhelmed walking through a crowded street. I focus right through them and the crowd just seems to flow around me. I don't know whether alcohol is a good way to get to that thousand yard stare, but the thing itself is a source of power.
Just keep writing, and if that means keep drinking, keep writing. It's been too long since we've been regaled with tales of a debauched armadillo.
Laugh or cry? Not sure. I still sorta hate Twitter. It’s a fraction of the quality of old school blogging debate.
I hope the beer is good. I look forward to your posts.
I appreciate you Jeff. Thank you for your work.
I and some others have been pushing to get your account reactivated. And I keep hoping. Until then, please keep writing as protein wisdom has remained one of the small islands of intelligence and -mostly- sanity in this increasingly nutso world we inhabit.
Just watched The Hours for the first time, now I'm finding myself finding some similarities in your (hopefully fictional) alcoholic buzz-seeking and Virginia Woolf's lifelong bout with depression, albeit sans substances. Her release was writing. Ed Harris's character, Richard, had his release in poetry. Neither of those two had happy endings. But you're strong and above all of that. Just keep writing. There's a book (or three, or four) in you. Cheers!
Hey man. I feel like I've been reading your stuff forever, and it was a good day to find you on Substack. I doubt that info spins your world around to a new orientation, but just felt it should be said. I have read & written amusing, interesting, educational, thought-provoking, ridiculous, vicious, lovely stuff on the internet since the early '90s (ye olde Usenette), using whatever worked best for me at the time. That damn bird is just another one, to me, although I know it means much more to others. I empathize with that (I still miss early Usenet) and hope your account is restored, while also hoping you'll stay 'reborn' here, too.
Strategy and tactics - orientation is the schwerpunkt. Good luck!
I would have thought it would have been a dram of Laphroig in your hand, but whatever. All I can say on my end, is that I think you’re the best at what you do. Always have been. We readers may not be much, but we love you, Jeff. Keep on keeping on, brother.
All I could think of while reading this alcoholic introspection was my hero Hunter S. Thompson. He seemed to have figured out how to optimize his addictions to create really fun to read prose. But, even as the son, nephew and grandson of many Irish alcoholics I've tried for years, even into my '70s, to emulate my hero and ancestors, I fail constantly. I can't stand the hangovers, even the mini hangovers. I just feel physically so much better sober. I drink plenty but if I get drunk, or, more likely, just over drink, I feel horrible for a day or 2. I can't work, I can't play I just have to sleep until it goes away. I really like sleeping these days but I also really like doing all kinds of sports, not that I'm particularly good at any of them I just like them. Me thinks alcoholism is not in my future. I hope you can find a place that works better than ultra frustration with the imperfections of life.
While I've not been suspended (or a user) on Twitter, I think I might be at a similar place only NO to Mic Ultra (sumpin sumpin de gustabus) and I come with my own Buffett tunes.
*waxes tips of Pencil Thin Mustache*
Hang in there, man.
*Parrot Looks at almost 60*