First: To all of you who’ve written to inquire about the state of my health, thanks, most sincerely, for caring. (NB: Except for the two clowns who wrote to express their hope that I’m about to die. Really, gentlemen! Have you no patience?) I’m mostly better, though I still have a nagging cough that occasionally makes me feel as if I’m turning inside-out. But you know how resilient we curmudgeons are, so keep the faith.
Second: Does it seem to you that the remnant of the Blogosphere has slowed down lately? Quite a number of our colleagues in this pastime appear to be running out of gas. Long-timers who were known for multiple posts per day are down to one or two. A couple have had stretches of total silence for several days. Even my worthy Co-Conspirators have recently appeared sluggish.
There are a few who still carry the torch high. For example, Ace has been laboring like Hercules. Dave Blount continues to pump ‘em out. And with assistance from a couple of relatively new co-contributors, Mike Hendrix has kept his site busy as well. But overall, the pace seems to have slowed. At a time of such division and contention, that strikes me as odd.
Still, I’ve been feeling a persistent sluggishness, myself. I don’t think it’s because I’ve been under the weather. Even though there’s a huge amount I could write about, the urgency I feel for it has diminished. Perhaps it’s more general than I was aware.
Are we beginning to sense the wheel and the futility of wearing out our feet, fingers, and hearts endlessly spinning it?
Every man’s passion is limited. Each of us has only so much to give. At some point, the reserves run dry and you face the prospect of…well, of writing something like this.
The core of the thing is the sense of pointlessness, the recurring question What have I achieved this way? It demands an answer that eludes me. I shan’t speak for anyone else.
Futility, like pain, is wearying. Weariness can be paralyzing. Add the advancing age and undiminished personal responsibilities of the Blogosphere’s stalwarts. The combination makes the easy chair and the Idiot Box look pretty inviting.
I’d like to survey the proprietors of the blogs I’ve patronized these past twenty years. I’d like to ask each of them What keeps you going? Their answers might help me to learn how to answer that question for myself.
Yes, you’ve guessed it: this is really a day off piece. I got nothin’, and I’m worn out to boot.
I suffer a terrible sense of failure when I issue a piece like this one. I feel a responsibility to you, Gentle Reader. You come to Liberty’s Torch for reading material of a sort that’s hard to find elsewhere. (Pipe down, you in the peanut gallery muttering “thank God!”) Providing it feels like a personal obligation. A failure to satisfy that obligation leaves me empty.
Even so, now and then it happens. It has and it will. The battles on the “home front” of the skull must be fought and won before one can sally forth to fulfill others’ needs. Just now, the lead is flying and the eventual outcome is uncertain. So apologies for the dearth of substantive material, have a nice day, and perhaps I’ll be back tomorrow.
(NB: According to a variety of “sources,” when his producers-to-be asked comedian Jerry Seinfeld what his proposed TV show would be about, he said “Nothing.” Hence the title.)