Boy, there’s nothing I like better than clattering the keys for 30 minutes or so, with the certain knowledge that what I wrote, or most of it, will never see the light of day. Don’t care. It felt good.
For what it’s worth, it was a letter to the editor, and if it gets butchered, well, it’s my own fault — you just don’t submit 638-word letters to the editor. Maybe they’ll run it as a guest column. If it sinks beneath the waves entirely, I’ll post it here. But they get first crack at it.
(Don’t get your hopes up; it’s a topic of little interest outside journalism. But it’s of interest to me.)
The end of a long week. For the first time in quite a few, I have a full plate — a long-term project and a couple of meaty stories to figure out. This will require time management, i.e., not spending so much time surfing the web while picking my nose. Fine with me. It’s appalling, how much I know about stupid b.s. like blogwar squabbles and the exact tactics used by Cathy Seipp’s online stalker. It makes me think that a certain portion of the human brain is simply roped off for inconsequential data; when we’re young we fill it with the lyrics of “Afternoon Delight” and the technique for playing the “Combat” theme on the harmonica, and now we fill it with crap from the internet. If only the new data would overwrite the old. But no.
Actually, the Seipp-stalker story is pretty interesting, if only as an illustration of the ways the internet facilitates mental dysfunction. (Which is sort of a theme to my too-long letter to the editor, too, but never mind.) As many of you know, I had a crazy man obsessed with me for a long time, too. Every so often someone sends me some random spew that indicates he still hasn’t gotten over it. Lance Mannion once wrote him a letter that said, “If you don’t get professional help, soon you’ll be locked in a padded room, using your own excrement to paint pictures of Nancy on the wall. On second thought, that’s what you’re doing now.” This ranks as one of the more stylish smackdowns in my memory, and yet another reason I love Lance.
I should note, however, that it did no good. The murals continued.
OK, now should be some bloggage, some tasty tidbits to carry you into the weekend.
…Sorry, I don’t have any. Post your own in the comment. Back after the weekend.