So this two line journal thing... is supposed to free me and make me happy. ummm...
I've posted more often. That's good.
I've said less. That's probably good too. Brevity is the soul of wit.
But sometimes life is ordinary, and I can't see blogging about ordinary, even though ordinary is relative.
But my relatives aren't ordinary in any way. They are all exceptional. Some are exceptionally brilliant, some exceptionally self righteous, some exceptionally kind, some exceptionally selfish, some exceptionally uncommunicative, which is exceptionally OK with me, in some cases.
See, I like the whole stream of consciousness thing going here. I can't do that with two sentences, unless they are exceptionally long.
So I was thinking the other day- I do that sometimes- usually not at work though- that we have become a generation of journalists. We blog more than we would ever write. I have lovely journals started thirty years ago with about five pages written in. I seldom write anything anymore. Everything is electronic. Well, we have a wonderful tie to the past with all the journals of pioneers, surveyors records, letters and written artifacts of the past. it would be wonderful if all this information on the intergoogle will always be there, but what if it isn't? I files saved on 5 1/2" floppies. I'll never be able to get it. I have stories on disc for my word processor that was pre-DOS. I tweet poetry all the time. Will twitter always be there? Sometimes it's not there now. Should I just resign myself that what I have to say isn't important enough for posterity. Well, that's the truth, but I may say something of value someday.
Is someone printing a hard copy of the intergoogle and the tweetybox? If you are, out there then do me a favor. Fucking lose Farmville, OK?