I Don’t Need This

I’m surfing aross the net looking for directories of literary ezines, online zines that review books such as mine; it is tiresome. I have no publicist, no order to what I’m doing except an inner pulse that moves me in this direction and then into that one. Clearly books are a product, and clearly marketing is the purpose for distributing this product. Marketing is America’s gift to the world, I have written in the Tetralogy. Toynbee in a book I read in my twenties, The World and the West, argued that the West has its “bag of tricks,” that is, its technology to slap about the world. If I remember correctly he criticized this materialism as rather empty if we also did not have a bedrock of values. Fast forward to our conflicts with Islam. What can we offer them — Britney Spears, Michael Jackson’s landsliding face, George Bush’s intransigence, Las Vegas, Fox News and all the rest of our nauseating “culture.” We even market democracy. So I am sitting here with a ha ha on my tongue, as I attempt to get my book reviewed so that someone will read it. I think it is becoming apparent that I am wasting my time; the energy saps residual strengths that I could call upon to compose more fiction. Perhaps the way for me is to just invest in POD and create my “products” and hustle a little bit before fatigue sets in. I am in this for the long haul, my inner values versus the “values” of the market.  Khrisnamurti once said to a questioner that he just gives off his scent, like a rose, regardless of affirmation or applause. I think, given who I am, that is the way for me. When I get too absorbed in marketing I experience anxiety, the greed gene twists along the helix seeking egress. I don’t need this. I enjoy the good reviews, I enjoy talking about my book, I enjoy the people who comment upon it or who feel touched or enriched by what I write. I have my son’s respect and love, I have Jane’s love, what the hell else do I need? I assuredly do not need you reader, nor do you need me. It is best that we brush against each other and any psychological or emotional dander we kick up may be mutually satisfactory. If not, so be it.