Why Write in the Street?
The street writing craft
People in the street see me writing and they ask all sorts of things. Most often they ask why I write in the street? Why not take it to the comforts of the home office? Why not sip tea and munch on biscuits? Why risk the mud slinging and other various dirts being flung as part of the usual transactions of the street? Why risk getting run down? Gosh. I write in the street - not in the street dear reader!
I promise to think of doing it another way. Just as soon as I’ve made my first million. But for now my writing comes from the street.
And in the street this week I met with Patty the Morrisian Potter. We may remember her from my writing group. To keep it authentic, her interview was conducted under unfiltered street conditions, with all the bustle and crying out that is common in our street. So if I didn’t hear what she said there’s every chance her response has been made up and she should not be blamed.
Patty believes her pottery will be found in future archeological digs and that she will have the final say of what happened here on the street. This is a woman who has thought things through dear reader. This is why I’ve come to her.
“Oh but we must have laws Steve,” cried Patty as she reflected on the new ebike laws, “laws for everything. Especially feel good laws. Some people want that you know. They’d prefer if there was a law against sleeping on your back at night. These new bike laws were supposed to slow them down. And do you know; I don’t recall a time when I’ve ever seen cyclists going so fast!”
The last time Patty and I met was at our last writing group meeting [https://stevey.substack.com/p/people-of-consequence?r=2fr0yr]. “They should be ashamed,” she said shaking her head in disgust, “At our AGM and all. They really should encourage that kind of chandelier swinging behaviour. Show a little more loyalty to the characters who assemble there. Why not just make a blanket law; just penalise anyone who lets their hair down. Enjoying yourself is just too dangerous. What if everyone went around enjoying themselves?”
“Perhaps chandeliers should be designed for swinging on?” I suggested. But I didn’t meet Patty to discuss chandelier design. I had other motives.
“Some things I just won’t do,” said Patty, “I have rules too - Nothing that makes life even a millimetre more complicated. If it makes my taxes more complicated I won’t do it. If it makes my final will and testament more complicated I won’t do it. If it means I never own property then okay, it’s a life less documented for me. Some people love that stress. If stress makes them happy let them have it I say.”
I’ve come to Patty as a wise old crone. She just knows things.
“I’ve been getting my affairs in order,” I told her. Don’t worry dear reader. If worst comes to worst all my Substack subscribers are to be released from their bondage, to roam the earth as freely as they did before they subscribed.
Patty informs me she had Ai write her final will and testament. “It was too tedious to even contemplate,” she said, “If it wasn’t for Ai we would still be wondering what I leave to whom. And I probably should have read through it to find out who it left everything to. But now it’s signed and sealed and we don’t have to worry about it.”
I like to outsource my wisdom dear reader. I mean, why force it? Meanwhile I’m here wondering if I should take out insurance against aliens. Who am I kidding? I’m better off trying to make peace with them.
And Patty always gets me thinking. With listening to that cassette tape we found in the wall cavity, I wonder if I should replace it with something before I repair it. I should leave something for the next wall destroying party. Some writing. To leave a legacy. A tale. A very very non fictitious tale. Something written by “Dave”.
Patty is right about everything. I didn’t even have to ask. She didn’t even have to say. And while life remains in such a tither, I know one thing - I must keep writing. And I must keep writing upon writing until something comes of it. Until either something comes of it or it becomes part of the estate.
Because dear reader, we all see the value of it. And to cultivate that fine art of street writing is meaningful way to spend one’s life. It nourishes the soul. Read it in the street for best effect. Spend time in the street. And maybe Patty will make good on her promise of immortality, formed by skilled hands, we’ll all be made legends of the street. Just give it a few thousand years.