Now where was I…?

(Mon Tiki Largo, awaiting transport to the water)

Hello friends.

From the last post I made here, more than three years ago:

Through the course of building MTL [Mon Tiki Largo, a 63 foot sailing catamaran I marginally chronicled here] I’ve had thoughts about various things that are of interest to the commentariat: the minimum wage, class and education as it interacts with vocation, universal basic income, and other things people like to talk about. Most recently I had some thoughts on the “Maker Movement”, which James Fallows was nice enough to publish on his blog.

But mostly I have not been doing much writing.

I could say that’s because the process of building a giant catamaran hasn’t left me with the free time to write, but that would be a lie.

The truth is that I have had many nights alone in the shop with not much to do, and if I were inclined I could have spent that time writing out my thoughts.

I haven’t done this because, as the saying goes, talk is cheap, and in Mon Tiki Largo I have an accounting of and testament to my ideas and values that is more vivid than anything I might write.

I’m thankful to say, Mon Tiki Largo did launch, floated (upright!), and has gone on to become the tentpole of a business with about a half-dozen full-time, albeit seasonal employees, while sustaining our family in a way my filmmaking (more on that later) never could.

What I have come to believe is that for me, my writing serves two purposes: 1) It is advocacy for my work (moreso when I was a filmmaker); and 2) is a constant stream of positive self-talk, a way that I encourage myself to “stay the course” by turning my internal dialog about why I do the things I do the way I do them into cogent arguments that I’m willing to subject to public scrutiny, and by making these arguments public, it makes it a little harder for me to quit when the going gets tough.

I have arrived now at a place where the going is not so tough. Last year we finished out the season with enough sea-room for me to undertake a winter’s long cruise of the Bahamas, where I was finally able to have the experiences of surfing, fishing, and diving I’ve daydreamed about for decades.

This winter I’m not cruising. Earlier this week my wife and I delivered MTL to her winter resting place, and the other two boats that comprise the Montauk Catamaran Company fleet are safely out of the water a couple of miles from our house. I have time on my hands, and some notions about what I’d like to do this winter. In no particular order: drive for Uber, learn French, learn to play the guitar parts for AC/DC’s “Black in Black” note for note at tempo, buy a small airplane and learn to fly it, work in a retail store, go on job interviews for “normal jobs”, return for a few weeks to an island in the Bahamas I especially liked, wake up early and do fitness walks with my daughter, improve my jazz guitar skills, continue to grow my hair out, rehabilitate my right shoulder, get my “everyday” 5K run under 25 minutes, and of course, continue to make erotic art.

I can’t say for sure why suddenly, after three years of not having so much to say I feel like writing now. Katie Hill has something to do with it. Having a place to brag and be accountable has something to do with it. But mostly I just feel like it, so I’m doing it.