"How do you survive?" you ask.

"Upon the kindness of others"

An Appeal for Support:
"A Matron, a Patron, a Court Jester, a Friend.."

Benefactors: 'backers', philanthropists, donors, 'promoters' .. (an "underwriter").

I need to start meeting them and "make my case". "How do I do this?" -- it's part of my therapy.  That 'socialisation' process. "Where are they?"

And I'm in search of living quarters "for a writer".  Quiet, secure and supportive.  Probably private.  Hopefully with brilliant minds nearby "the Best and the Brightest".  Where a "delicate blossom" can be encouraged to bloom and help "point me along the way".

Perhaps they know "a friend of a friend of a..".  Whereupon I shall discover a fellow "independent spirit" who believes in what I'm trying to accomplish and can help nourish it.

Or perhaps there is a grant somewhere for it (March 1980: "Granted .. in whole" thanks).  I'd be grateful if someone could tell me "which one".  Indeed, I'm a "babe in the woods" in so many ways in all this and become easily lost in them.

Publishing has a cost: about $300 a year I'm estimating.  As well as the time involved.  And setbacks (because you're vulnerable and can't afford certain protections).  And then there's food and "all the rest"..

I tried doing all the right things .. "I've just been poor" that's all.  And would be more than happy to show them my Social Security statement to prove it.  With all those "zero's" since '93. "zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero" -- I don't know why they all seem to look like "F's".  I'm 59 and it all adds up to $265,857.

But if you can do nothing else (perchance you see me anywhere) "just smile" and say "Hi Geoffrey" or something.  It will suffice.  And has done wonders already.  Thanks.

"I've just been poor" that's all. "So what!"  Here's why:

Self-esteem: I call it "the energy for pursuit". And it's hard to explain that stuttering and low self-esteem thing to those one meets briefly in this world.  When they see me happy and delighted to meet them.

And do not wish to burden them with "the long depressing story".  Perhaps they have one too.  That's even better.  I'd like to hear it.  Let's see if they can.  Here's mine:

Stuttering: it's no one's fault we live in an age of recording.  And all us "stutterers" are bound to hear it eventually anyway somewhere. And become depressed, isolated and withdrawn.  That "coming of age" thing.  Unhappily, it began at an early age for me around the time my parents were divorced: that means "on your own".  Friends diminish and now gone with a new High School -- "highly competitive".  Late night unfinished homework.  The sleep cycle shifts (and permanently so: it's called DSPS) as you sit at your 'desk' getting nothing done late into the night.  For hours.  Then try to stay awake for classes the next day.  Becoming severely isolated and depressed.  And terrified of being rejected by women: "Why ask?".  Your grades are at the bottom and being too depressed are grateful some people somewhere help get you into a some college where "it just continues" struggling through that constant 'fatigue' to get your BSEE so you could wind up "stuffing circuit boards" and "do as your told".  But you just never seem to "get off the ground".  Financially and with a career.  Later, there's a little 'sparkle' and later some money.  But you know "it doesn't matter" the stuttering and self-esteem thing is always there.  No one knows who you are: social-isolation.

Then you discover you're a writer. You've known it all your life but never been encouraged in it because your father left an attic full of it (that didn't interest you anyway) that he never published saying "oh, those publishers.." and died poor.  And also struggled with these peculiar 'fatigue' issues that were not his fault that no one understood and always seemed to be in search for some cure for it and never did.  Anyway, I'm trying to work on those life-long stuttering and self-esteem issues.  That's where it starts.

Publishing: it's the first thing that's ever seemed to be working for me in my life. Using my "full heart and lungs".  Technically and 'spiritually'--(I hate that confusing word, I believe in sanity by the way).  It means I can say what I wish.  And there is much that needs saying and much that needs to be known. This is a start and some of the rest you'll find at "Oh, so much to write!"

I wish I could do better with the social-isolation and anxiety issues.  Investigative Journalism can make it even more so.  The 'decoding' and "worst case analysis" (I'm an engineer, remember) sometimes just gets weird: "Word quietly comes down from the 'powers that be' that this person is a problem".  That one turned out to be a laugh.  As well as turning up another story (still unfinished): "Spooked".  You just have to go through this stuff I guess.  Like jumping in the deep end of a pool learning how to swim and see you'll survive it.  But as the stakes go higher it starts to creep back in.  And the craft of writing and web publishing itself is isolating and time consuming.  There is much left that needs to be said and fear I may not have the ability to complete it all.  But find myself strangely driven by it all.

Anyway, whatever happens, thanks for the smiles.