In which we begin the trip, and I forgot my make-up

I thought that we should explain a bit, but kharold was of the impression that we should just dive in, you know, like a stream-of-consciousness novel. That’s all very well, I said to her, but you’re assuming that they’ve bought the novel. They? She was intrigued. Who is this they of whom you speak? I realized then that we had differing assumptions about this place called blogland in the intersphere, the major difference being that I believed that we were being read, critiqued, looked askance upon, held up to the light from the beginning. Kharold looked upon the blog as a journal with red fonts instead of pens, and URLs. Which is fun.

So what, then, do those of you with more experience than I say to the question: Do you write for yourself, or do you write for them? Do you write because you need to put things down and find that certain synapses bounce with greater energy because you’ve done so, and/or do you do so with a mind toward who might be reading and why? Because when you are being watched there is a certain self-consciousness that does become a part of the picture. Do we all become (un)closeted exhibitionists? I think of one blogger whose work I admire and her occasional practice of describing twice editing out by lining through, therefore leaving the phrases there, transparent. There is a wry humor to this, knowing you really meant the first words, knowing that others know it, but not leaving the change unmade because that would be a different sort of message altogether.

Normally, kharold is a red-lipstick kind of girl, while I… am not. Still, it begs the question, does one put on the lipstick at all?

Having asked, I can now continue. Beverage of the evening: Red raspberry leaf tea, brewed 20 minutes, naked. Residence upon the sofa, a happy cat nesting half-upon the laptop screen. Black cat, green eyes. Rather rakish, until you know that despite his sleek appearance and incredible speed, he would never survive as an outdoor katzen because he stops, not on a dime, but on a hula hoop. I swear he must be near- or far-sighted or something. Glasses are not an option. But he is a lover and a faithful companion to whomever happens upon the sofa. Faithful, that.

Currently reading: Isabel Allende, Kingdom of the Golden Dragon. We like young-adult fiction, children’s fantasy. Another good one: Lloyd Alexander’s Vesper Holly books. Same idea. (All bought here: Mysterious Galaxy. My favorite bookstore.)


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