Maybe I should keep a journal again. My old journal is about 4-feet thick, counting multiple volumes over many years. No one has ever seen it. It is a vast sea of self-pity and great dreariness. I think if someone were to read it, they might find a few passages of some value, but they would have to wade through a lot of repetitive nonsense.
Well, it was private. I just now attempted three blogs postings, which I quickly discarded -- because it's none of your business, and you might discover what a creep I am, and what a sordid mess I have made of my life.
Why should I tell you? And furthermore, in this ultra-confessional Oprah world, why would you want to know?
Go read Aurielle's blog. Hers is better.