Tom Not-So-Mighty

Dateline: above the garage in Portsmouth RI, 7 September 2004

I'm just plain sore now. Several hundred emails more today, and since I need about 25 laudatory ones to balance each and every piece of hate mail (nothing too threatening yet--just the vague "I hope bad things happen to you and yours"), I remain compulsive about answering each.

Experiences like this always remind me that fame is to be desired more than actually achieved--fun for a while, but not a life's pursuit. Still, it's so encouraging to receive so many emails from people who say they've never written an author before, never watched C-SPAN before, never listened to anything of that sort before, etc. You love those sorts of response so much, because that's the real teaching aspect--turning people on who haven't been turned on before to a particular subject. Makes me respect all my teachers from over the years all the more, when I think about it.

Still, I am really starting to ache. Typing hour after hour is just plain difficult. After a while it feels like an orgy--nice, yes, but how long can you do it? Perhaps I should have experienced this when I was younger, but I'm almost certain I would have become insufferable, whereas I feel like I remain sufferable (annoying, yes, but sufferable).

No attempt at blogging news stories. Between email marathon sessions, I gave brief to entire Naval War College class today in big hall at Newport, and that is a burnout experience all its own. Big laughs today though, and that energy alone propels you even as your brain decomposes in real time.

Thanks again to the hundreds who sent emails. I have saved many. Why? I have no idea except my hotmail account is huge now that I gave Bill Gates his $20 finally, so why the hell not. A private treasure trove to wallow in on rainy days.

I also keep the hate mail though--primarily to aid the investigators (yes, I am talking about you in particular!).