It has been a year and a half since my last profession.Â I have been writing and thinking, about this, that, and occasionally, your sister, just not on this particular forum.
Like all stalwart Catholics, I must at times seclude myself in a beehive hut in some sparsely populated region of the world and contemplate the ball of wax that is my soul.Â Elusive wax.Â Malleable, somewhat sticky stuff, the soul, not to mention flammable.Â I emerged a year later from that beehived assemblage of stones with a cleansed heart, a thick, priestly beard, and a difficulty with sunlight.Â Blinded, the first thing I did was stumble naked into the picnic of a very surprised young couple, landing genitals-first in their potato salad.Â It was a delicious reintroduction to the world.
They still enjoyed it.
The gentle ruminations in the darkness of my solitude led me to many truths and a number of conclusions and resolutions:
1.Â No more blogging until I complete my fictional masterpiece.
2.Â No more blogging until an Irish surname coached the Irish again.
3.Â No more blogging until my pants fit better
4.Â No more calling it blogging.Â From now on, I shall call it â€œblournalismâ€ in the hopes of lifting the profession ever higher in the minds of those I most esteem.Â Such as Stewart Mandel.
All conditions have been met.Â As to point 1, a draft is complete, so Nabokov can suck it.Â Posthumously.
As to point 2, obviously, objective surpassed.Â Kelly, a proud last name, plus the first name of Irelandâ€™s greatest high king, Brian Boru, so Ulster can suck it.Â
As to point 3, Dockers may be so bold as to suck it.Â
And as to point 4, I can already sense the term blournalismâ€™s inevitable leap onto the AP wire.Â The AP, via fair-use, may suck it.
All that being said, I will soon begin a weekly look at the use of video technology by those who would dare oppose her loyal sons (eh!) on the fields of combat.
Footballâ€™s almost back.