Friday,
December 1, 2000
1:59 a.m. Back at the
desk after a party and a late-late trip to the supermarket
to grab a few things before settling in for the night.
I've been out the past two nights, introducing myself,
being as polite as I know how, and making small talk. I'm
far, far too old for small talk, but I really and truly
don't know any other way to communicate for an extended
period of time with strangers I may never meet again.
I always feel terrible afterward, by the way. Nearly
always. If I've talked about myself, I feel as if I've been
bragging ... and if I don't get a word in sideways, I feel
as if I've become irrelevant. Either way, I feel: insincere
and shallow and brittle and insincere and even more shallow
than that.
Oh well. Perhaps that's what I am: honestly and truly
insincere. Plus tired, so I will roll out my pretty new
December pages and add a little more to this piece in the
morning, when I'm not so bleary.
12.2.2000.:: 2:04
p.m. Now I'd like to close this page out a
little more carefully. There is so much detail work involved
in creating and maintaining any web site, let alone a
daily-updated one, let alone two, three -- maybe even a
coupla more of them committed to daily updates ...
... so I have committed myself to a schedule that's sure
to have me committed before too long, but you never know.
Daily updates are the only way I know to make a site feel
alive, and yet just showing up every day isn't the whole
story, either. You've got to show up and you've got to tell
the truth.
This is the only space where I can either be perfectly
truthful with my writing unless or when I've got those nasty
nondisclosure moments to worry about. Mostly, I say what I
can and then I hop around the topic and find a crawling bug
or a fallen leaf to describe as I dance on first one foot
and then the other.
So -- this entry has a bit more roundedness to itself,
and so I'll sign off and go somewhat directly to today's
real entry, due to begin after my nap.
Sigh. Such details -- the stuff of real life.
|