Rebuking the Flakiness

If it looks like I write when I need money, it’s because it is true.  

I wax and wane about it. Every day I get up intending to publish a piece and, nearly every day I get so lost in the weeds of the crazy events that are revealed to us, that I feel I can’t to any of them justice. 

Then, a personal event takes place and I’m forced to write. My siblings who are the progeny of Philip Ochieng do not write for public consumption, but I am compelled to. When I don’t, I feel a gnawing anxiety – a depression of sorts. It’s the proverbial vicious circle. 

The great thing is that almost every time I publish, I get an overwhelming response. This time: 40 new members. A lot of that is due to one Glenn Reynolds who has supported me for two decades with his famous Instalanches. And then there’s Patrick Gunnels who reads my work aloud and makes it sound better than I do – or so it seems to me. And then there are all the others. You know who you are. 

The truth is that I need twenty readers to make a yearly paid subscription so that I can pay my rent today. I understand if you don’t want to, as I have not been consistent in publishing. And if it doesn’t happen, I’ll take my car and my devices and keep on pushing. 

But I promised my landlord that I would pay him today, and I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen. 

In the meantime, I’m going out to do some delivery driving.