13 November 2004

[art] On Regenerating Diaries and Sketchbooks

Before I came to 'blogging, I was an inveterate (not invertebrate) (look it up) diarist. I got addicted to it as part of a group of misfits in High School who were not unlike the "other" clique in the Safe Havens comic.

We fancied ourselves a great many things. At the time I fancied myself an 'arthur' (as we said down on the farm). I didn't know jack squat about the "examined life", and couldnt tell Pepys from Peeps. But I liked me my journal.

I've come a ways since then. I think I understand the thing about the examined life, though I don't quite grasp it yet. Also I gave up the "manly" conceit about calling it a "journal". I have fewer illusions these days. I keep/kept a diary.

I had a lot of thoughts about that as I opened an appropriately-sized blank book and started to write again. You see, my current diary volume (enclosed as it was in one of those nifty Oberon leather covers, retail about $60.00) was stolen out of the Subaru as well. I hope they enjoy...oh, never mind.

Anyway, I'm summarizing what happened lately in the first pages. I've not been the most faithful diarist, nor the most steady, but I've done it. The thing I think I have over other people who don't do this is, well, I own more of my past. I feel a little bit more immortal because that will survive me (The Wife[tm] would see to that).

I may be just 1/six billionth of humanity, but I do this thing.

I'm certainly no Pepys, but I'd never give it up. Even if someone steals the last volume I could ever do.

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