the day the diary died
I stopped actually writing in a journal about 12 years ago, more or less. Rummaging through them now is kind of weird. They even smell ancient, even though nothing feels like very long ago.
Here are some of the final excerpts, leading up to the day my diary died. I talk a lot of nonsense (I call it fin de siecle rambling when I am feeling generous, but mostly I just cringe).
If I started a pen-and-paper journal again, I wouldn’t know how, I don’t think. Maybe I will. Maybe I should. A friend from work showed me this clip of the Blackout Poet today, which I thought was pretty cool, thinking back to the Dadaist days and just being able to find everyday magic in stuff (I don’t mean to sound jaded or past it when I write that, it’s just that I have a headache for the third day in a row).
Filed under: arrested development, clutter, daytoday, found stuff, poetry, writing | 2 Comments
Tags: black and white, diary, every day, poetry, purpose of blogs, writing