I've been away a long time, on a job, feeding the monster. The news monster, and not the big one either, just a local, pocket monster. But really, the way news works these days, what's the difference, other than salary, awards, respect, and prestige.
It's all about shoveling the fuel as fast as you can. Regardless of size, the monster never chews, just gulps and belches and asks for more.
When the job finally ended last Friday, I thought I'd hop right back on the blog train. I was wrong.
When you spend all day and all night scouring the internet or attending meetings for more monster-fodder, the first thing to go is literary style -- your voice. The second thing to go is the butt. You spend all day in a chair, need I say more?
It's a Titanic effort to turn my mind from the act of writing to the practice of relaying information, and an equal effort to reverse course. Some people can dance between both sides of their brain; I have to get down on the mat and wrestle. My brain is slow to turn, but it's a reliable chap and eventually follows the compass.
I like my brain. Not to sound too Cartesian about this, but we've been friends for a long time. And though, from a young age, I've been told it could do more if pushed and shoved into more rigorous action, I kind of doubt that.
Though not the best brain in the world, it can do a lot of things, just not all at once.
When I ask the wheels to turn in a different direction, we get all physical about it, and hike heart-thumpingly long and fast. It helps the voice and it's good for the butt.
Property I found last week when feeding the monster. The agents were nice enough to let me snoop around today (with Albert) because they saw the post.
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