Normally, as for all writers, I find the internet is nothing more, or less, than a tool for work. One hears of its cornucopia of distractions, but as far as we writers, who have a high and lonely destiny, are concerned, it is a library, a research tool, a way of prising open the locks of the word-hoard, and nothing more. We hear rumours of “sites” where can be found television shows, recordings of music long disappeared from our collections; even places where moving pictures of live carnal congress can be observed. Indeed, there are tales of “social media”, where people can pass idle gossip and chatter to each other. But that would be to waste whatever scant and precious time remains to us upon this globe. We have other, more significant fish to fry. Sic vive tamquam cras moriturus: live every day as if you were going to die tomorrow, as Erasmus said – or is said to have said.
You see what I mean? That’s what the internet is for. To look up stuff like that, so we can appear clever. Not for anything else.
Content from our partners
