Once again been brought face to face with my failings as a theorist, a writer, a publisher, in some senses even as a human being. Just had another really solid reminder that I don’t fit here, in any sense – or even in any ‘here’, it seems.
After yet another farrago for my would-be publishing, where the planned launch for the new book Disciplines of Dowsing at the British Society of Dowsers congress didn’t actually happen – everyone involved just kind of forgot, I guess – I’ve been taking stock of the actual results of my Tetradian Books venture, and together with that, the whole of the last couple of years’ work and being. Not exactly inspiring, really.
- Total sales at Megalithomania, back in May, where we supposedly launched the new edition of Needles of Stone: eight books (of which only four were the new book); total income, perhaps £70 at best; total cost to go there, a bit more than £300; overall loss, around £250 or so.
- Total sales at BSD congress, this weekend: eleven books retail, plus perhaps 20 wholesale; total income, perhaps £250 at best; total cost to go there, about £350; overall loss, around £100 or so.
- Total online sales of all six titles since May: 67 books; total income, somewhat under £500; total setup cost, somewhat over £1100; overall loss to date, around £650 or so.
So the effective financial result of six months’ flat-out full-time work since March, when the first title went off to press, is that I’ve wasted yet another thousand quid or thereabouts. That’s not including any of the frightening costs of living in this obscenely expensive country, either. Not exactly pension-fund material, shall we say.
In terms of impact, towards creating constructive change anywhere, all my efforts have fared just about as well as my finances. Precisely one (count ’em – one) person in this benighted country has come close to a real understanding what I’m trying to do in enterprise architecture. If I’m lucky, the best I get from most people in ‘the trade’ is stares of blank incomprehension; if I’m less lucky – which has happened quite often here in Britain – I get a full-in-the face denigration not just of my work but myself as a person, for the unacceptable sin of ‘thinking different’. Not far off the same with most of the dowsers, and the rest of the pointless, pathetically self-obsessed ‘alternative’ scene: it’s painfully clear that most want to cling onto their delusory newage just as long as they can, and have no wish or intention to face any form of reality. Which, in turn, is equally true of the IT industry – utterly lost in their own self-important delusions, wasting everyone’s time, money and everything else, selling dreams that they know damn well they can’t deliver. Same is true, in fact, of pretty much everything else I’ve looked at professionally over the past decade – just don’t get me started on the failings and outright fraud of the domestic-violence ‘industry’, for example…
And I must admit I’m utterly sick of it all. I’ve been struggling too long, too hard, in too many areas and contexts, trying to get anyone to think, to see how ludicrously stupid so many – almost all? – of the usual approaches and models and frameworks really are, and that we really must do better, really, really urgently…
But I have to accept it ain’t going nowhere. Pretty much no-one is interested in what I do or what I say; and certainly no-one here is willing to pay for it. So in practice I’m back at being the Outsider again: as far as this society and culture and milieu is concerned, it seems, I have no societal function, no purpose, no role to play, and no place anywhere within it, in pretty much any sense of the word. Hence, unsurprisingly, no support either. And the endless loneliness out here on the Outsider edge hurts like hell: it always has, always does.
Quite where that leaves me, right now, I don’t know. Somewhere not exactly pleasant, that’s clear. Some painful choices up ahead, that’s also clear.
So yeah, a bit dispirited at present.