(Perforated Lines)

(berries on the fence)
(yesterday)Friday, December 1, 2000(tomorrow)


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.




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