2002-05-08 - 1:11 a.m.

Still don't know what to say here yet, after all that has happened over the past couple of days.

This stupid site has been such a prolific catalyst. I don't know whether to thank it for its role, or curse it for getting me into so much cumulative trouble.

But fear not, I'll press on. Sooo much boring to do, so little time.

I think, for now, right this second, at this point in my life, and here, I'll update my objectives for writing this stupid thing, cause that does seem to make me happy, kinda, in fact, more than do commas.

1) Again, I write here 'cause I forget obvious stuff so easily. I'll enter a restaurant I've been in once, and five years ago, and I'll remember at what booth I sat, and which direction I was facing. I remember the names of interviewers I hired last year that only worked one day. And that seems to be it.

2) The TV is always on in the background, and I'm usually drinking. That's OK, cause I'm afraid to run as hard as I can and still lose the race. I wanna come in second, and with an excuse.

3) After the Diary Apocalypse, I have one thing to say to the people who I actually know and who also read this thing (for whatever reason). What I write here, which is for me, has nothing to do with the outside world. I do go out of my way to bore you away anyway. Chortle away�it wasn't meant for you in the first place. Maybe if I played a song for you, or went out with you for beers, and you knocked me down, I'd be hurt. This, this is just something I happen to do, and it's your deal if you don't like it.

4) What I write here serves the purpose of helping me remember how I felt at point X in my life. I might re-read entries every now and then, but I shouldn't edit them. What's done is done, omitted words, tangents that go nowhere, warts and all. Poor writing, or even good but flawed writing (the best I can hope for) is welcome here. It's a journal, not a narrative. That's all it is. A special track behind the high school that I can use to help me practice coming in second.

5) Not everything that happens in my life goes here. Sometimes there will be laundry lists. Sometimes I'll leave stuff out 'cause I know that people know that I write this stupid fucking thing.

6) I don�t care what the (ex) Girlfriend writes about me. I give her massive permission to write what she wants to. She�s earned it. For me, however, I feel that she�s a member of the on-line community now, and what I write about her will be read by people who read her. It�s not like I can disguise her name and nobody will know who I�m talking about. The Girlfriend and I broke up. But we still have a couple of months of living together before it�s safe to talk about anything concerning the breakup, or of me maybe seeing someone new (I�m not). That�s it. That�s all I�ll say. I�m not going to discuss, here, anything else that goes on between us, for now. If you want details, look elsewhere.

7) I'm an idiot for writing this thing. This is a concession. But I won't stop. It's for me.

8) It�s for me.

9) Repeat step 8. I don�t mind if you want to read along. In fact, thanks for reading. But please take as your grain of salt the fact that I write this soothing beacon in a time of intellictual chaos for reasons other than appeasing you, the reader, as I stumble around, attempting (sometimes half-heartedly) to try to figure out how to say what it is I have to say.

10) Damn straight.