Maybe I’m just tired from shoveling snow, or maybe the chemical goo I’m smearing on my arms twice a day in an effort to quash a little mild skin cancer has got me down. Feels like I’m cracking peanuts with a pile driver. The problem with Listics lately (among others I’m sure) is the lack of intentionality. I’m in a season of withdrawal, reducing my commitments, reserving my strength.
The tech stuff here is just a pain in the bottom. Doug Alder was kind enough to offer shared services, but I think I’ll pass because I hate computers. Well, maybe it’s a love-hate thing, but I don’t want the responsibility right now for monitoring capacity and performance and planning upgrades and trouble-shooting the little quirks along the way — sounds too much like a JOB!
And every day I ask myself what will I write about? I could rail against the wars. I could review some of the better stuff I read. I could beat my head against the ivy covered ivory tower of the academic post-modern movement. What about an essay on the net as a digital distribution mechanism and fuck-all who confuse distribution with production? What about taking off on Stowe Boyd’s brilliant insights regarding the dynamics necessary for productive dialogs between “corporate centroids” and we the “edglings?” How about an impassioned diatribe promoting progressivism and lambasting the thoughtless libertarian greedballs who somehow see Ayn Rand as more than a queen bitch novelist with some real narcissism problems? What about the Kurds? The Persians, the Venezuelans, the Nicaraguans?
How about those Chicago Bears? Someone should comment on whatever it is the Fox network thinks it’s doing with production values on American football games. I tuned in for fifteen minutes of commercials and five minutes of play this afternoon. The staging reminded me of some high tension action drama… sort of an “Enemy of the State” thing with shoulder pads.
There’s a lot to blog about… SXSW, F2C, Enrico Fermi, Nikola Tesla, Tim Berners Lee, Dervala, Mohs, Mohs, Mose … but I think I should shut it down for a while and clean out my office, clean up my vendor relationships, my web sites, square away my life.
I still have the deck to shovel, and I ought to clear a path in the snow to the barn.
After that, who knows? Goodbye Gutenberg, hello Broadway!
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