I write mostly about making technology, making art, and making food, and so my weblog correspondence is more varied and nicer than the political bloggers get. Some days, it's terrific: one day last week I found myself moving from the politics of Handel's oratorios to the utility of prototype inheritance, and then on to Tinderbox and its role in film. (Is this a great job, or what?!)
Sometimes the mail gets a little political. I just found myself answering one complaint about Why Porn Matters . The writer was very upset about kids today; he's 70 and thinks nowadays any boy can sleep with just about any girl and this leads to abortion, unfaithfulness, and probably drowsiness. I'm pretty sure that kids today find love about as hard as kids ever did. And it's always been hard: I don't think my Dad carried Marvell's To His Coy Mistress half way round the world (they threw a World War) because girls were so pliable. I ended up quoting Dover Beach.
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.