Three Hundred Twenty-Seven

Here is the three hundred and twenty-seventh posting I’ve made to this blog.

Woo-hoo.

This means I’ve probably spent on the order of two hundred hours writing pieces for it, or something like nine or ten days of my life down the drain on an enterprise that is at best benignly meaningless, at worst, narcissistically self-centered, or both.

My original idea was to get 327 pieces written before March 27th, but then I decided to go non-stop 327 days in a row. I guess I’m committed to that now, although many is the day I recognize the full absurdity of the task I’ve set for myself and feel strongly inclined to call it to a halt.

In any event, I’m still an advocate of the 327 word form; it’s just long enough that I usually run out things to say right about the same time I run out of words to say them in.

And I’m still intrigued by the numerological permutations of the number 327, even though I don’t put any stock in what those numbers might mean. But it’s interesting to me that 3 to the third is 27, that 3 plus 2 plus 7 is 12, which is 3 when you add the digits together, and that 3 times (2 plus 7) equals 27, too.

Then, of course, there’s always the 327 cubic inch V8 engines of muscle car fame.

Mostly, though, it’s just an arbitrary fixation that allows me to set a parameter on activities that would otherwise be open-ended, thereby enabling me to tackle them more consistently than I would if there wasn’t that limit.

I’m sure I wouldn’t have written 327 blog entries if I didn’t know how long they were going to be when I started them.

Now certainly a case could be made that that would be a good thing—and far be it of me to dispute it, especially since I’ve already used up all of today’s words.

Now.