Thanks for the explanation. The "arrow" story is hilarious.
I've been thinking about your original reaction to my reading your journal. As in, "I don't get it -- why?" Even though I think you're since reassured that my interest is strictly benign, I think I owe you a better explanation of why I'm so enthralled.
1. The obvious: you have an immensely engaging and articulate narrative voice. I've read novels that weren't nearly as well written. Really.
2. As previously mentioned: you're thoroughly honest and always take responsibility for what's happening to you. And I still haven't come across a single instance where you're judgmental or unkind. You're quite simply exceedingly likable and extremely easy to sympathize/empathize with.
3. It's the thoughtful chronicle of a voyage of self-discovery. As in, "Who the hell am I?" I think it's this part that resonates most with me.
I think in life we tend to define ourselves by the roles we're forced to play -- usually as a result of the decisions we make, but not always. Son or daughter, sibling, friend, co-worker, parent. We evaluate ourselves fulfilling those roles. As in, "Crap, why did I say that? I'm not a very good friend." Obviously, though, none of those roles encompasses the totality of who we are. Yet we hardly ever end up asking ourselves, "What kind of a me am I? And what's his/her purpose?"
My writing project is a journal being written by a man who's losing his memory and is frantically trying to understand who he was/is before his "self" disappears. (Are we really just our memories?) While trying to record for posterity what he considers meaningful he goes on an intellectual quest to discover what knowledge is and why anything at all has meaning, all while sequestered alone in a house with a huge library, the books of which were apparently selected for this purpose.
I confess that, even though I'm not losing my memory -- no more than your average fifty-five-year-old, anyway -- there's a large autobiographical component about OCD ("Who am I if I'm NOT what I'm thinking?") and so on. And the library is real.
I posted a rah-rah comment about your first day of work but then removed it. As you correctly implied, I'm not one of your friends; and it felt wrong to act like I am. Sorry about that. I was/am sincerely happy for you, though. Naturally.
I'm up to June of last year in the archives.
I'd like to send you some lighter-hearted stuff I wrote a dozen years back about books and language for my now-defunct online zine, SIGNUM, all in PDF. I think you'd enjoy them. How can I do that without compromising you? Do you have an ftp client? I can post some files for you on a site my biggest customer has set up for me and my people to use on their projects. I just don't want to post the address and password in a comment. Will a message to you be appropriately confidential?
Of course if you're not interested that's completely okay. I won't be offended. I can imagine that you'd much rather be doing homework : )
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2008-09-27 10:38 pm (UTC)Thanks for the explanation. The "arrow" story is hilarious.
I've been thinking about your original reaction to my reading your journal. As in, "I don't get it -- why?" Even though I think you're since reassured that my interest is strictly benign, I think I owe you a better explanation of why I'm so enthralled.
1. The obvious: you have an immensely engaging and articulate narrative voice. I've read novels that weren't nearly as well written. Really.
2. As previously mentioned: you're thoroughly honest and always take responsibility for what's happening to you. And I still haven't come across a single instance where you're judgmental or unkind. You're quite simply exceedingly likable and extremely easy to sympathize/empathize with.
3. It's the thoughtful chronicle of a voyage of self-discovery. As in, "Who the hell am I?" I think it's this part that resonates most with me.
I think in life we tend to define ourselves by the roles we're forced to play -- usually as a result of the decisions we make, but not always. Son or daughter, sibling, friend, co-worker, parent. We evaluate ourselves fulfilling those roles. As in, "Crap, why did I say that? I'm not a very good friend." Obviously, though, none of those roles encompasses the totality of who we are. Yet we hardly ever end up asking ourselves, "What kind of a me am I? And what's his/her purpose?"
My writing project is a journal being written by a man who's losing his memory and is frantically trying to understand who he was/is before his "self" disappears. (Are we really just our memories?) While trying to record for posterity what he considers meaningful he goes on an intellectual quest to discover what knowledge is and why anything at all has meaning, all while sequestered alone in a house with a huge library, the books of which were apparently selected for this purpose.
I confess that, even though I'm not losing my memory -- no more than your average fifty-five-year-old, anyway -- there's a large autobiographical component about OCD ("Who am I if I'm NOT what I'm thinking?") and so on. And the library is real.
I posted a rah-rah comment about your first day of work but then removed it. As you correctly implied, I'm not one of your friends; and it felt wrong to act like I am. Sorry about that. I was/am sincerely happy for you, though. Naturally.
I'm up to June of last year in the archives.
I'd like to send you some lighter-hearted stuff I wrote a dozen years back about books and language for my now-defunct online zine, SIGNUM, all in PDF. I think you'd enjoy them. How can I do that without compromising you? Do you have an ftp client? I can post some files for you on a site my biggest customer has set up for me and my people to use on their projects. I just don't want to post the address and password in a comment. Will a message to you be appropriately confidential?
Of course if you're not interested that's completely okay. I won't be offended. I can imagine that you'd much rather be doing homework : )