Spiritus Mundi

The signal cannon has fired and the day has officially begun. Those of us on the lower decks have thrown our backs into it and are heaving away on the keyboards in front of us. The aft keyboarders are providing the majority of the motive force by typing out rough rants on the social networks. Complaint about government and bosses. Largely mindless theories on conspiracies in general and space aliens creating a gigantic subterranean complexes beneath Kansas City Royal's Stadium in which to imprison and question the collected university docents about their knowledge of homosexual activity in the UN.

Needless to say, those blokes put out a mighty amount of power and never run out of pseudoinformation to write about. The middle crew are writing essays and autobiographies. They keep up a steady drumming on the keys and do not lack for fodder but they're slower than the aft crew because they lack passion for their work. Largely because the stuff they're typing is boring beyond easy description. If their boring work was represented astronomically, it would consist of a giant red boring sun with 12 featureless planets of the same size orbiting it. Each of those planets would have the same land masses and atmospheric characteristics, rendering exploration meaningless. There also may be moons involved but no one would care.

Still, the middle crew provides much needed ballast and their mumbling serves to hide the sound of the aft crew's outbursts from the forewardmost crew, in which I happen to number myself among whom, in.

The fore crew, as we call ourselves, are the true brain and guidance deal of the entire writing craft thing. Just kidding. We're all erudite as get out and we are the ones that are writing the literaturical content of the entire massive mess. Learned, learned discussions are constantly taking place and while some of us are dangling from the advanced edge of fiction, ironical metaphors notwithstanding, The majority of us busy ourselves with the higher beaux artes de writing. In this way, we keep the entire craft upright and respectable. It's kind of like a cable news channel. Sure, there's a few people working on the more raunchy erotica stories, but for the most part, we're turning out stories about young women, coming of age, on English country estates, with wicked step mothers and men in ascots. Class stuff, you understand.

And that, little Monty, is how the whole world keeps on turning. You can be sure that when you wake in the morning and prepare to face your day that there are a goodly number of sweaty, heavily caffeinated writers chained into rows of desks and word processors, banging away below-decks to carry you through the rough seas of today into the future of tomorrow, and beyond.

Thank you very much.

More later,