“Sex workers are the frontline workers of the soul.”
“Art should be an antidote to bullshit.”
“When I think of the sex workers I’ve had the honour of knowing… they’re some of the most brave, beautiful, passionate, intelligent, quirky, weird-ass people I’ve ever met.And I am so grateful, and so indebted to all of them, to have been reminded it doesn’t matter what society says about you. You are f*cking beautiful, and you are worthwhile, and you’re complicated, and you’re hurting and you’re healing and you’re human.And I really hope that anyone… who reads this book feels a little bit more in contact with their humanity afterwards.” )
After all these years, my dream has materialized. And I don’t feel like I thought I would.
Life does not consist of peaks and valleys, but incremental steps towards either.
It would have been folly to elect this publication the panacea for my human condition.
All the same, I thought I’d feel good!
To explain this incongruent mood, I have to divulge a matter of some embarrassment.
Our Zoom book launch, which I, perhaps naively, kept very public, was invaded by a nasty hoard of hackers who did their utmost to derail an otherwise beautiful event.
Me and my MC managed to boot the hecklers, and the show went on, as it must, but for me, the damage was done.
I received sympathy from performers and attendees alike, but no amount of support can outweigh the burden of a neurotic mind.
I put immense effort, not only into this book, but the event itself. I recruited some of the most talented artists I know, reached out to hundreds of family, friends, and acquaintances, and invested ample time into my least favoured element of the modern writing career: promotion.
All that energy expended to create one impermanent piece of paradise, and the demons still invaded.
Some people live to tear others down.
Technology only enables their enmity.
The internet is the Wild West of the Psyche. Anything goes; accountability is scarce.
This virtual reality has risen from ubiquitous to essential, not only in our daily communications, but concerning our very sense of self.
Whether or not we want to admit it, total Clicks, Likes or Views become a barometer of failure.
We differentiate the winners from the losers, the “winners” accumulating inconceivable exposure.
Meanwhile, those who have 1000 views, or 100, or 12, require immense security to avoid feeling they have failed to be seen, and perhaps, by proxy, loved.
When did we conclude that More = Better?
Even if “more” is meaningless.
Even if “more” unearths robots, trolls, and monsters.
I want to reach as many people as I can, to open their minds and stimulate their imaginations.
That’s an influence no Like button can measure.
In some ways, hate won this round. On the other hand, hate will never win- not as long as we insist on loving ourselves, each other, and the goals that make life rich.
I understand hateful people more than I’d like to admit. They are in Hell, and want to drag others into Hell with them.
I’ve had my share of Hell. (I still get weekend passes.)
The difference between me and them: I don’t want to spread Hell around.
My aim is to help people get out.
May my words serve as rough road maps to the soul.
May the story of my scars aid others in navigating their hearts’ mazes.
I don’t care how many Likes I receive, or how many demons crash my party. No matter the rain, I’ll march in my parade.
I’m going to write, create, and dare to do what haters can’t.
C E Hoffman 