OK, I’m 71, not the typical age for a blogger. Not exactly the right temperament either: I don’t live and breathe computers. I’ve loved and hated blogging like I loved and hated computers when they came along and superceded everything I’d so painstakenly learned about book production. So I got into blogging mildly kicking and screaming. I liked what it did, but not the time it took me to do it. I already spend more time in front of a screen than I want to. I need my time at the beach and in the woods. But in the last few days I may have seen the way to post stuff more often. I’d like to, because it seems that in my peregrinations I’m constantly runnning across people and things that interest the heck out of me, and I have this compulsion to tell people about it. In fact more than once I’ve worried that I should be more “in the moment” wherever I am, rather than filtering what I’m seeing through my reporter’s brain. How am I gonna tell people about this?
I think (at least tonight) I’ll blog more often. For one thing, yesterday was the first time that I wrote within Blogger.com’s template rather than writing stuff in Eudora and then copying it into Blogger. It was much quicker. And it’s always a kick to see what you’ve just written come up on the web, nicely formatted: a unique immediacy. Like right now I’m about to hit “Publish Post,” and in seconds it’ll be worldwide. It occurs to me that coming from the Old World, as it were, makes all that’s happening now (electronically, not politically) all the more wondrous. Hell, I still can’t believe what a fax machine does, when I really think about it.
