Don't be a cokehead.

How cocaine indirectly fueled Thomas Edison's creativity  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ He's got to get it out Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming ​ --------------------------------------------------------------- I'm officially opening up my books for 2024. If you happen to be in need of words that read like poetry and sell like Ogilvy, [schedule 15-minutes to chat]() with my brother, [Conner Schafer.](=) He previously headed marketing over at Replit and is now handling growth at [Honey Copy](=). He's one of the smartest marketers and business minds I know. --------------------------------------------------------------- These days, I'm like a shark. I feel like I have to keep swimming in order to survive. I say "these days" like I haven't forever been this way. Growing up in Indiana, I'd pace around my grandparents' house like a coyote kept inside. My grandfather would sit at the kitchen island sipping coffee, buried behind his newspaper––always shirtless with his belly hanging over his Champion gym shorts––and shout, "Austin Cole Schafer, stop pacing!" Before he could get the words out, my grandmother would scold him in her heavy Japanese accent and say something to the degree of, "He's got to get it out, Jo." I'm twenty-nine-years-old going on thirty and I have yet to get it out––I'll never get it out. If I have it my way, I'll die at ninety-years-old in my boots doing the work I love with dates on the books and a dozen unfinished projects looming over my head––this is the only way to live. I'm in Hudson, New York right now "unwinding" at this beautiful little hotel. I decided to hole up here after a few days in Philly on the ground with a client doing some advertising work. I told myself this would be a two-day vacation but both me and myself knew I was partially full of shit. I've had a marvelous couple of days: drinking copious amounts of coffee, working out at the gymnasium next door, walking the streets late at night gobbling up inspiration and enjoying cocktails with friends. I've also written a couple dozen poems while here and in an hour or so I'll begin breaking ground on my first spoken-word EP––that very well could become an album––with my brother [Trey Schafer](), [Kyle McEvoy]() and [Jon Notar.]()​ My therapist tells me my manic output could be a side-effect of my unwillingness to face my own pain. But, she doesn't dissuade me. I think she sees what my grandmother saw before the days she danced among the angels. He's got to get it out. By [Cole Schafer](=)​ P.S. Validate me on [Instagram](, [Twitter](), [LinkedIn]() or [Threads](=). --------------------------------------------------------------- Thomas Edison was a coke head Although not in the way you would think ​ Thomas Edison loathed sleep, believing the act to be a "waste of time". He was a life-long insomniac due to a cocaine-infused Bordeaux wine he was addicted to called Vin Mariani. However, despite Edison's opposition to shuteye, he had a hunch it could grant him access to some untapped creative potential. Before falling asleep, Edison would place a glass orb in each hand––the moment he reached the brink of slumber and his body relaxed, he would drop the orbs and the ruckus would rattle him awake. It was here where Edison said he had his best ideas. Edison was onto something. Sleep researchers believe we have a jolt of creativity around the semi-lucid state that occurs right when we begin to drift off into sleep. I don't recommend cocaine nor do I recommend you short-change yourself on sleep simply for the sake of creativity. But, I do recommend psychedelics. If you're interested in dabbling in the world of psychedelics,[Schedule35]() is a trusted psilocybin brand that makes micro-dosing seamless for writers, artists and entrepreneurs looking to enjoy greater control over their creativity. Today, Schedule35 is gifting The Process readers 15% off their first order with code “dreamland” at checkout. [ZZZ ZZZ ZZZ]() --------------------------------------------------------------- Last week on [Dreamland](​ A masterclass in storytelling with, Kevin Rogers ​ A couple months back I climbed on stage to be interviewed by my friend, Kevin Rogers. I was supposed to talk about copywriting but ended up talking about placebos, shitty Gin & Tonics, flash fiction starring James Dean, how Octopi can taste with their skin––I swear this ain't no shit––the time I was in the same room as Hillary Clinton and my open letter to Red Wings that went semi-viral. Recently, I had the privilege of sitting down with Kevin once again, except this time I was the one doing the interviewing. Our conversation was just as wide-ranging as our first. If you haven't heard it yet, shame on you. Kevin is a masterful storyteller. Just listening to him speak will make you a better storyteller by osmosis. [You listen here]( Now streaming... [[youtube]​]([[spotify]​]([[apple]​]( --------------------------------------------------------------- Silenced by feeling And how to survive an attack from a mountain lion ​ The older you get, the harder it is to show your throat. You still feel everything. You never stop feeling everything. You just get better at hiding the feeling––the hurt. It's almost as if you're ashamed of the hurt. Are you ashamed of the hurt? I read somewhere that if you ever come face-to-face with a mountain lion, you're supposed to hoist your shoulders up to your ears to protect your throat, backpedal, box the sonofabitch––and pray. If you make it out alive, you will find the blades of your shoulders forever sewn to your earlobes. Art helps break up the scar tissue. You play your favorite songs, watch your favorite movies, read your favorite books and gaze upon your favorite paintings until you've memorized every lyric, every quote, every line and every stroke of the brush. You throw on some Nathaniel Rateliff and walk the streets of Philly at 1 a.m. with a few Sazeracs warming your lungs––and eventually you drop your shoulders and feel the cool air bite into your throat like a mountain lion or a mistress or a feeling you've struggled to recognize until now. [Survival 101](=) --------------------------------------------------------------- Hunter S. Thompson's daily routine (I don't recommend trying this at home...) ​ Back in 1993, journalist E. Jean Carroll outlined Hunter S. Thompson's manic daily routine in a memoir that reads like a piece of fiction. 3:00 p.m. Rise 3:05 p.m. Chivas Regal with the morning papers, Dunhills 3:45 p.m. Cocaine 3:50 p.m. Another glass of Chivas, Dunhills 4:05 p.m. First cup of coffee, Dunhills 4:15 p.m. Cocaine 4:16 p.m. Orange juice, Dunhills 4:30 p.m. Cocaine 4:54 p.m. Cocaine 5:05 p.m. Cocaine 5:11 p.m. Coffee, Dunhills 5:30 p.m. More ice in the Chivas 5:45 p.m. Cocaine, etc., etc. 6:00 p.m. Grass to take the edge off the day 7:05 p.m. Woody Creek Tavern for lunch-Heineken, two margaritas, coleslaw, a taco salad, a double order of fried onion rings, carrot cake, ice cream, a bean fritter, Dunhills, another Heineken, Cocaine, and for the ride home, a snow cone (a glass of shredded ice over which is poured three or four jig­gers of Chivas.) 9:00 p.m. Starts snorting cocaine seriously 10:00 p.m. Drops acid 11:00 p.m. Chartreuse (French herbal liquor), cocaine, grass 11:30 pm. Cocaine, etc, etc. 12:00 a.m. Midnight, Hunter S. Thompson is ready to write 12:05-6:00 a.m. Chartreuse, cocaine, grass, Chivas, coffee, Heineken, clove cigarettes, grapefruit, Dunhills, orange juice, gin, continuous pornographic movies. 6:00 a.m. The hot tub-champagne, Dove Bars, fettuccine Alfredo 8:00 a.m. Halcyon (sedative used to sleep) 8:20 a.m. Sleep [What's your writing routine?](=) --------------------------------------------------------------- [[twitter]​]()[[instagram]​]([[linkedin]​]() ​ [Update your email preferences]( or unsubscribe [here](​ © 2023 The Process 113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205