I have a genuine desire to get ideas out there, for some reason that escapes me I get really really creative in cold weather. I'm middle aged enough and confused enough to not understand substack and I don't want to monetize things. way long ago when I was voraciously reading Kerouac I just wanted to share ideas and stories. this is before anxiety and depression choked that ambition out of me, I'm medicated and healthy enough to want to continue to re-attempt.
like most situations I just genuinely assume that my words (vocal or written) will
find an audience and if not then the words will sink into obscurity.
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