I’ve been saving topics upon which to pontificate because, well, you know, I’m lazy. Who saves topics? I have a list of them in iTunes, downloaded from my phone (in which the spirit of Steve Jobs surely lives, hence the reticence of the Apple company to actually innovate; if they were to, his existence would at least be threatened, if not terminated). Last September I forayed into obituary writing, a heartfelt adieu to an era through a beloved dog. Since then: nada.
Writing is a discipline, and I write for a living. Recreational writing becomes a drag. Nevertheless, most of my professional writing ends up cutting so many whimsical notes, asides, quotations, citations, discoveries, etc., that it seems wise to develop a further discipline for recreational writing. For example, the 1500 year old basilica discovered submerged in a lake somewhere in Turkey:
The topic is interesting enough, so I forwarded the link to my sister, to which she replied, “Why would you go to the trouble of building a basilica underwater?” See? Clever. Further: the news article was obviously the prefigurement of the miracle long-foretold, that one hundred monkeys, locked in a room with one hundred typewriters, would produce Shakespeare’s Hamlet. A human could not produce such garbage for which he or she was paid. I, certainly, would throw myself into the lake if I cashed a check for chucking that article into the great sea of the internets.
We have, literally, zillions of people writing who would otherwise not be writing, which floods the market with mediocre writing. Surely, news agencies can find someone with real writing talent and skill who will be grateful for menial writing such as this! Alas.
Since I wrote the obituary, I’ve read several books, had several notable life experiences, endured beautiful and nasty weather, but I’ve produced nothing recreational to reflect it. I have no doubt that you, gentle reader, would be at least mildly entertained, effected, enlivened. Yep, you guessed it: it depresses me to write after reading others’ writing. Mine is chaff amidst so much chaff. Mine will never be considered wheat, linked to twitter with a renowned hashtag attached.
That’s OK. In we go, and out we come. Moreover, my podcast is actually being re-jiggered so that it will be rather professional in its production. Ever nearer we part-timers crawl!