Why This, Why Now: An Artist's Manifesto

I write because inaction is no longer an option. It never was. That is why I talk so much, even when it makes so many walk away.

For over 75 years, I've carried stories within me—stories that pulse with urgency, that wake me in the night demanding to be released onto the page. These narratives explore the spaces between defined identities, the liminal territories where transformation happens. They examine how we navigate belonging and alienation in a fragmented world. And by design, they rarely fail to shatter boundaries.

My path to this moment has not been one-dimensional. All who know me, know the dimensions, and one could say, the dementia. That madness within us all. I've written in stolen moments—on lunch breaks, in the early morning hours before the household stirs, on scraps of paper tucked into pockets. But more noteworthy, I've written in my sleep, wide awake, daydreaming in Geometry class, in my head all the time, often difficult to turn off. Sex helps, for about 30-45 start to stop. I've never stopped writing since I was 3 years old. And now, for whatever strange reason, I seem to have an almost ideal ability to recall.

I've doubted the value of my voice in a crowded literary landscape. I've questioned whether these stories deserve to take up space. The doubt is gone.

Why Now?

This work is not just mine. It demands to be shared. It belongs to everyone who has ever felt caught between worlds, who has struggled to articulate their truth in a society that too often demands simplified narratives. My writing examines the complexity of human experience—the messy, contradictory nature of identity, connection, meaning-making—love.

The world is at an inflection point. We face unprecedented challenges that require new ways of thinking, new languages for articulating possibilities. Literature has always been a laboratory for reimagining our world—for testing ideas, for cultivating empathy, for creating spaces where we can recognize our shared humanity while honoring our differences. Isn't that just simply just what is so? I Believe it is.

And, I do not believe much. I just think. Let it be…

I can no longer wait for the "ideal time" to fully commit to this work. My articles, essays, short stories, and poems—many written 50 or more years ago—some sit in boxes, waiting. What started as political commentary and a memoir called "The War on Drugs" has transformed into my first novel. With today's tools, I've produced more in the last 30 days than I imagined possible—several plays, none finished but many ready for readers. It is a long list. And, when I search through my chats, I uncover ideas I let slip a little too far back. I should hire a staff right now with what I've got going on, and I need support.

What I'm Building

I'm creating a body of work that includes:

• Developing a multimedia second edition of "The War on Drugs: Tales from a Member of the Resistance" that will transform the original text into an immersive, interactive experience. This expanded version will weave together personal narratives, historical documentation, and contemporary analysis through a rich tapestry of multimedia elements.

• Rewrite WoD (50000 words) into a serial. First three now on Substack.

• A collection of short stories exploring displacement, belonging, and the search for home

• A novel examining how trauma and healing ripple across generations

• Essays that bridge personal experience with broader social and philosophical questions

• Literary experiments that push against conventional form to find new ways of seeing

• Curate, organize and publish my lifetime collection of visual art, photography, and video content through an accessible digital platform, allowing audiences to experience the complete archive regardless of their location.

Why I Need Your Support

Writing requires time, space, and resources. While the romantic image of the struggling artist persists, creative work flourishes with support. Your backing will allow me to:

• Hire an agent

• Build a staff–remote. 5-7 people, always an odd number

• Dedicate consistent, focused time to developing these works

• Participate in conferences, workshops and communities that will challenge and strengthen my craft

• Do a Ted Talk or 5.

Your support is a very small financial investment, less than $100 a year (for now) but isn't just financial—it's a vote of confidence in the value of my art, in my value. It is an affirmation that this work matters. That it is indeed our work. It's an investment in a more nuanced cultural conversation, perhaps the spark of a new human renaissance I humbly submit.

I don't take this request lightly. I'm asking for your support because I believe deeply in the power of art to help us make sense of our complex world, to illuminate connections we might otherwise miss, to imagine possibilities beyond our current horizons.

If these ambitions resonate with you—if you believe in the necessity of diverse literary voices—I invite you to join me.

The time is now—urgent, necessary, and impossible to manifest in isolation. It is only through our collective gaze that we might transform the forces threatening our world into new understanding and renew our shared humanity. All art since the beginning has been a collaboration; without this exchange, it would remain shallow, incomplete.

I pursue a higher understanding that transcends disciplinary boundaries. As E.O. Wilson illuminated in his groundbreaking work "Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge," the convergence of knowledge across seemingly disparate fields offers our greatest hope for addressing humanity's most pressing challenges.

My exploration of war mentality versus Eastern philosophical traditions exemplifies this consilience—bringing together history, art, philosophy, politics, and lived experience to reveal interconnected truths that no single discipline could uncover alone. In this unity of understanding, in this bridging of knowledge systems, lies our path forward.

For it is only through Consilience that we can truly confront the horrific trends toward annihilation and devastation that threaten our shared existence. This project stands as both witness and catalyst to that essential unity of knowledge.

My mind harkens back to the Marquis de Condorcet–the anniversary of his death is soon, March 29, 1794.

Please help me.