I just delivered my 10,000th sermon on Mount Twitter, chapters and verses preternaturally limited to 140 characters of course, and feel it's time to offer up my testimony, in more luxurious form, on this remarkable development in online communication. I submit this homily not because I say or do anything special on Twitter or because I am well-followed or influential or particularly Tweeprolific. I am not. I preach the gospel today instead because I suspect my Twitter story, give or take a few tweaks, is similar to that of many people, similarly situated to me, who pursue their career at the crossroads of merging industries -- in my case, law, politics and journalism.
Lo, though I have spent hundreds of hours with it over the past two years, I still strive to tell you precisely what Twitter means to me. Perhaps it is similarly unknowable to you, too. Sometimes I see it as a great river -- an eternally flowing stream of information and news and speculation and gossip, which ebbs and rolls with a tide created by human events, and which coughs up the occasional fail whale. The best and most successful Tweeters, it seems to me, are indeed "a river to [their] people," to paraphrase Anthony Quinn's Auda abu Tayi in Lawrence of Arabia. Some days, I feel like diving right in. Other days, I don't even feel like dipping my toe in the water for fear of having it bitten off by sharks. On some days, I can skim the surface. Other days, verily, I appreciate how deep Twitter runs.
Sometimes, I see Twitter as an assembly line -- and on many days I see myself as Lucille Ball, hysterically falling ever further behind in an effort to keep pace with the extraordinary amount of material that comes churning through. Sometimes, Twitter reminds me of the synapses of the mind -- sparking connections that allow people to better comprehend and adapt to the world around them. Sometimes, especially during major sporting events or other breaking news, it reminds me of a pesky town crier. Sometimes it reminds me of high school. And sometimes it even reminds me of "The View." You can find wisdom and grace and propriety in those 140 characters. And you can find a whole lot of junk, too, oh ye of little faith.
I started Tweeting in February 2009. Ten thousand Tweets in 22 months averages out to 455 per month or roughly 15 each day -- approximately one for each waking hour. When I break it down like that, it feels like an obsession. And on some days, laden with news, it is. But I am a positive mute (a Twute?) when compared with some of my colleagues on the law or politics or media beats, the ones who churn out tens of thousands of Tweets each year. How they muster the energy and devotion to perpetually communicate with such relentlessness escapes me. Maybe for them Twitter draws out the longing of Tolkien's ring, or the Siren's song, or maybe, more plausibly, their bosses are simply pleased with and encourage the additional editorial output. For what is Twitter but an ever-ready sound-byte machine for pundits and politicians, correspondents and analysts, quacks and rubes alike?