On Dead Man's Pond?

I have finally taken the plunge.

After ending up on the losing end of a battle with the owners of the Shithole, I have embarked on a trip to Dead Man's Pond to begin the final leg of my life's journey. Like Thoreau, I bring with me only my writing and my basic necessities, waiting only for the Check to arrive. Whether it is the Benefit, the 401K cashout, or the phantasmal Royalty Check, it makes no difference. As long as it subsidizes this vision quest, it is my only concern.

It was almost as if God prepped me up for this final run. I spent the past several weeks driving around Kansas City, desperate to find kindred spirits among the cafes, bars and restaurants to no avail. I thought it ironic that I was carrying over a thousand dollars of disposable cash with me, and could not find a place worthy of spending more that ten dollars at a time. Now I am counting coins, watching the mailbox...and if I had another thousand dollars, there would be no place worth spending it.

The Internet is my window to the world, my only portal to cyberspace in communicating with those of like mind. I exchange posts on writer's websites, giving my opinions to others to do with as they like. I do exchange reviews with other authors, writing excellent reviews on works I would have never read, for the privilege of knowing that another person has read one of my books.

Writing is a lonely existence, much like long-distance running. The exhilaration of accomplishment is there, tinged by the regret that possibly no one will ever know of that private victory. It reminds me of my 500-pound squats in my basement, as sequoia trees I chopped down that no one ever heard fall in the forest. Yet, I continue to await the Publisher, the Royalty Check that will prove my worth and rescue me from Dead Man's Pond. Perhaps I await Godot, but...we shall see.