Saturday, August 14, 2004

starbucks blogger

i came in here, to this starbucks today, just to blog myself out. i have no internet access where i live, and i haven't had internet access in the place i live for over a year now, and the neighborhood starbucks is absolutelly the only place where i can get online for any useful amount of time and acutally DO anything. i began blogging when i realized that another website i'm a member of, which i'll call Glore-phoria dot com although that's not its real name, was just serving as a journalling device for me; and that all i really wanted to do was write these long long journals and empty my head onto someone else's eyeballs and just be free of all this thinking i always do.... but what really made me jump and go and set up this (and three other) blog is an entry i didn't post on that site, which made me cry while writing it: in the post i realize, right there through the keyboard, that the reason i journal so much is that i don't have anyone in my life to tell all these things to, that i have no other way but that damn website to tell anyone in the world anything about how i'm really feeling and what is really happening with me-- that it's my only outlet and the only way to express any of the things i have to keep cooped up inside here-- and i started tearing up right here in this starbucks... and then i deleted that post, and i fled to a blog site and started immediatelly gushing... it seems at times that i have so much thought inside my head and nowhere to put it, that there couldn't possibly be a website big enough to hold it... there are phases of my life where every day i could write a whole book... so many little miniscule things happen every day and i have such a vast expansive reaction to all of it... this little gimpy town of LimeTown... all it's odd people of every odd shape and size... all these confusing things that go on... there are some days where all i want is to write and write and write on into the night of all the things that are going on inside my mind, but i don't usually get enough time for that and what i write in journals never makes it anywhere but in my storage, under stacks and stacks of notebooks all with hundreds of pages of my writing in them... all just writing about stuff; sometimes fantasy, sometimes commentary, sometimes ongoing rambling, sometimes facts and sometimes fiction and sometimes nothing like any other thing... a very seldom rare times in my life, there've been someone who asks to see inside my journals, my physical written journals i mean, and i've been drunk or otherwise loose-feeling enough to tell them sure go ahead... and each one of those curious people were so suprised at what they read in there; they instantly would find things they did not expect to see; a deeper me, i guess, or something like that. i've gotten the strange question "Is that REALLY the way you WRITE??" more than once, whatever that's supposed to mean. of course it's the way i write. it's written right there. but i always answer the question with "yeah i write like that." so it comes down to, maybe i should have my words where more folks can see them; folks who i don't know... i don't really care what they think or say or come to know about me. i just need to fume. need to exhaust parts of this repertoire. need to exist.


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