Via The Fat Guy, the lamentable loss of innocence. Perhaps I’m truly one of the lucky ones, since I’m still in the game and more, my web journal (still) has no direction. I don’t write about a specific topic, it meanders pointlessly, and, most important, the division between reality, fantasy, myth and metaphor gets blurred. Obscured, even. Not that it matters much to me, as I live in a strange place inhabited with mythical creatures, and it’s okay, all the folks here know me.
However, that’s also been a downfall. Some of the astrology essays would do well in astrology magazines, but I can’t be bothered. Fishing material might be appropriate in a fishing magazine, or outdoor life, but again, I can’t be bothered. Then, there are days when this material is merely just a record of where I’m going, and what I’m doing.
Two Meat Tuesday (the book)
astrofish.net
(cure for the common horoscope)
Pink Cake A commonplace book.
Bexar County Line
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I didn’t know one’s journal had to have a direction, except for birth and death and all the interesting side trips in between. If it’s just a record of where you’re going, and what you’re doing, then I think you’re doing it right. What else is there between one breath and another?
More important, it amuses me. The fact that other folks are along or the ride is just fine, too.