This Is (Still) Sippican’s Place

It’s hard to be Floyd.

I’m Internet Floyd.

It’s hard to explain a Floyd to a non-Floyd. A non-Floyd thinks you’re certifiable if you explain there is no vacation, no Sunday, no insurance subsidized by others, no corporate umbrella to shield you from liability. You’re at the mercy of events so far beyond your control that they might as well be lightning bolts. You could be made penniless overnight by the stroke of a pen in a legislature or a smoldering cigarette butt. It’s not generally a situation where you might fail; you wake up every morning and you’ve already failed –it’s the default setting– and you work all day with your mind and your back and your hands and your prayers to get back to zero so you can go to sleep again.

Why would you be a Floyd, you ask?

So you can hang a sign out front that says: This is Floyd’s Place. It’s really no more complicated than that.