Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Thursday, May 17, 2007

My brother recently sent me journals I kept in high school which he found at our mother's house and which I had forgotten about. I haven't looked at them yet. I may not for a long time.

In 9th grade I kept a journal. It became a fetish object in my nerdy social circle. Friends would write in it for a day. Other friends would surreptitiously take it and write, "Ha ha, I'm writing in your journal!" At the end of the year, I burned it -- didn't want to be too attached. I never regretted it, until today, thinking about it.

In my 20s and 30s at different times I kept private journals, unlike my 9th grade journal, and unlike this public internet diary with a guest book at the bottom of each entry for anybody to chime in. (And please do chime if you feel like chiming.) I haven't looked at those journals for a while either. I do remember one journal entry which served as fodder for two or three songs -- about turmoil at my job at that time. One song began, "I say god damn the hypocrites." Another song began, "My heart is full with bricks and stones."

I wouldn't have kept track, but the blogger program tells me when I log in. This is blog post number 1,000. When I started doing this in January 2004, my dad was alive and my son was a couple of days shy of turning one year old. Other than my dad having died and my son growing up, the biggest change in my life since starting the blog has been the blog itself. Sometimes it feels like a sick addiction, but mostly it just feels like . . . keeping a journal. With pictures and a comments function. And hyperlinks. In public. If I look at old posts, the ones I am gladdest to have written are the ones that record my domestic life. But I'm glad to have written most of the others as well. And I'm really glad to have met, at least internetally, a number of interesting and swell people, many of whom I've become terribly fond of.


-- Juan Gris, Le Journal, 1916

Cheers for the blog.

I have made it part of my daily routine -- it makes you seem nearer, which is sweet.

Skimming the archives, I particularly enjoyed Carl Sanburg Week.

I know it takes a toll, but here's to 1000 more.


I'm really glad it's kept me in closer touch with dear old friends such as yourself.
Happy First 1000, John! Thanks for finding me again.
Thanks Dr. Corndog! I'm glad to have found you again, and I do need to update my blogroll.
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