A July overnight on a rocky hillock an hour north of Manhattan. Three tents, three fathers, five scouts, one big bonfire. Some hamburgers, a few steaks, fresh corn, and seegars for the dads. Ghost stories and a five-mile hike. Twenty-four hours and then a return to a fresh shower and...
Blog overload.
Or to put it another way: does Steve Gilliard sleep?
I am seriously suffering from blog overload: abandon the laptop and turn the clock 24 hours these days and the little Bloglines blinker says "242 New Items." I scan them at best, working to get that number down to zero - to "catch up." But I'm not catching up. I'm missing stuff - and I suspect it's the good stuff.
Like stories of brave Britons, or updates on two particularly cowardly Amerians (Rove and Novak, the Brooks and Dunn of the Yellow Dog movement). Or a rant from Gilliard (seriously, does the man sleep?).
So how did this get away from me? Or to be more accurate: does Steve Gilliard sleep? Does Jeff Jarvis eat? Does Fred Wilson really invest any more? Does Jason Calacanis actually run a business? Does Lance Mannion's alter ego really exist? Is Joe Gandelman the real ventriloquist or some automated Charlie McCarthy on speed? Is it true that J.D. Lasica writes books?
I mean really: does John Cole wear a freakin' catheter!?
You know it's getting bad when you can't even keep up with James Wolcott's posts: no more of the picky, occasional offering from Mr. W - noooo, now he's a torrent of erudition and catty media criticism.
And he's leaving me in the dust. Quick posts, short posts, mega Mannion-man tomes. People, get a damned editor!
Alas, that won't happen. This is the great VolksMedia at work. I am at its mercy. I'd write more but the Bloglines thingy is blinking like a message from the Bat Cave for Commissioner Gordon. Only 57 posts since I started writing this. Holy blog verbosity, Batman.
from Amazon.
