Since I'm no longer living in a thimble and may actually have a heartbeat or two to myself in the near future I'm going to take the plunge and take my journalling into this oh-so-ephemeral space.
It's going to change the way I write because I used to say that writing is the most private of the performing arts and my words could all vanish once the power goes away. Living in the country, that is often an important consideration. Thus, the ephemeral nature of the medium. On the other hand, once I hit send these thoughts could theoretically circulate forever. Horrors. But that's life.
Especially since, on some level, I've chosen to live a public life already so what am I bitching about, hey?
Its weird since I'm having my usual conversation with myself that I actually have the ego to think someone else may be interested in, yet the act is very different, typing instead of writing, and I have much more time to think about what I'm actually pontificating about when I slow down.
Anyway, I'm sure Marshall McLuhan is reving about as fast as my hard drive right about now, given the way the medium is working.
(A side thought... if I have a text file of 'Om Mane Padme Hum' on my hard drive, do I have a 7200 rpm prayer wheel?)
I'm starting this just before '07 ends because this and starting the new book are not going to be New Years Resolutions. (Bleah)
You know, since I am theoretically addressing every human being alive, I suppose I could begin by saying 'Dear God:' -- if you believe that the Divine rests in everything. But the salutation might be seen as offensive so I won't. I'm not writing 'The Color Purple'.
It looks like Winter may be dumping another ten cm of snow on us tonight and I may not make it up the hill tomorrow to get to work. This morning I chose the wrong hill (I live in a valley and there are three choices out, two of which are the most practical). That road hadn't been plowed and my snow tires are on the wrong car (don't ask). I made it three quarters of the way up and lost traction, skating gracelessly backwards down the hill, rearwards. I did manage to not get stuck catter-corner across the road or in a ditch and backed the remaining 500 m to turn around and take the other road. Which has a worse hill but had actually been plowed.
At work today I made 43 steak and Guinness pies of various sizes.
My son Tristan (the eldest) is just asking for computer time, so I'll cut this short and come back later.
Frohe Weinachten Everyone!
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