Wednesday, December 20, 2023

My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Five. Poor But Free. Louis Shalako.











Louis Shalako 


Poor but free. Here we are, poor but free, looking into the mirror of eternal truth. It has revealed much, and it has also left a lot of things out, bearing in mind the time and space available. It is the tip of the iceberg, the world’s longest written confession, all true, and the best I can do, considering that memory is a reconstructive process and much time has passed between then and now. It is some kind of confession, and what are you going to do about that after all these years. Maybe it is also some kind of attempt to get real with the world, to get right with the world.

Maybe it’s just a shit-load of moral questions, and not too many clear, simple and concise answers.

It is an act of contrition, in some sense—

And so, the years fly by, and we find ourselves older, hopefully wiser, and maybe just a little bit sadder.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen.

What a trip down memory lane, though. At least for a while, it was like it all came back to life again…I miss those people sometimes.

And now I find myself poor but free.

It could be worse—a lot worse.

After thirty years on disability, which if nothing else provided a little stability in my life, or two-thirds of stability, when you consider it really is well below the poverty line, now I get to retire. I get to move on to the next phase of my life, which as far as I can make out, involves being some kind of irascible old man, one who also has seen you coming. I know who you are.

I like to go on the internet and give young people a hard time sometimes, I really do.

And I’m not putting up with your shit, either.

The Canada Pension Plan, the Old Age Security, the Guaranteed Income Supplement, a part-time job and a rent-controlled apartment in a working-class walk-up in the central city area. This is what I have to look forward to.

A hot meal and a cold beer once in a while, and what an irony, in that now the government is selling pot and probably thinking of getting into the heroin market, when you consider their ideological emphasis on paying down debt at the expense of any form of rational social solutions….

But, I digress.

It could be a lot worse.

***

I will make the best of it.

This will be my twenty-fourth book, and this is about the time when I write The End, and go right back to the front of the book, and begin the process of re-reading, and rewriting it.

It really is a pain in the ass, I have to admit. Thank Darwin I have nothing better to do, and at least I don’t have to sing for my supper, or steal bread to feed my family.

Anyhow.

This is when I flesh out a few details, and fill in a few blanks, but all of those chapters were long enough to begin with, bearing in mind the average blog post. Essentially, anyone who followed along got to sort of watch me do this, a bit like watching Bob Ross paint one of his not particularly good oils on the Public Broadcasting System, Channel 56, Detroit Michigan, on cable television, all of those long years ago…if I had the time, I would show you how that’s really done.

Time to pop that chute and bring this old crop tour to an end... #Louis

All those happy little trees, right.

I doubt if you could write your memoirs in anything less than a million words, once you really set out to do it. The problem is, that no one would ever want to read it.

No one really wants to get all that fucking involved.

Thanks for coming along, on what turned out to be a rather extensive crop tour. It means a lot to me.

I don’t know about you guys, but I have enjoyed the ride.

When you ride with me, you’re riding with the best.

***

There are eight million stories in the naked city.

This is but one of them.

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men.

The Shadow knows.

And who knows.

Maybe it will all work out.

 

END



Poor old Louis has books and stories available fromGoogle Play, don’t forget to check out the audiobooks.

See his art on Fine Art America.

Check out One Million Words of Crap, an audio essay on independent, digital publishing, in celebration of fourteen years here at Long Cool One Books.

Image: This guy here.

My Criminal Memoir. (Part One).

My Criminal Memoir, Part Two.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Three.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Four.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Five.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Six.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Seven.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Eight.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Nine.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Ten.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Eleven.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Twelve. (Access restricted due to content. 18+)

My Criminal Memoir, Part Thirteen.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Fourteen.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Fifteen.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Sixteen.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Seventeen.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Eighteen.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Nineteen. 

My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-One

My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Two.

My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Three. 


Thank you for reading, and listening.

 

 




No comments:

Post a Comment

Please feel free to comment on the blog posts, art or editing.