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Let no one claim I ever attempted consistency.
I don't know what my own voice sounds like anymore. I want to hear it in the differences in the voices I assume.
What people call their self is usually the first least transparent layer they come across.
I know the things I've written aren't my best works. I want them taken care of, they're a part of things I will hopefully write. If no one reads them how will I know they're done? Why did I put those unpublished pieces on the website? They're terrible introductions. But I want them to exist.
I do worry about not existing.
I'm starting to think of this journal as part of a never-ending interview with Life. In case I die before anyone gets to ask me the important questions.
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Date: 2010-04-19 06:33 am (UTC)icon sad
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Date: 2010-04-21 06:22 pm (UTC)Before this blog has glean'd my teeming brain...