Thursday, January 15, 2003

        I'm baaaaaack!  It's been more than a month since my last update.  . .

        Is it me or does this sound more like the beginning of a twisted confession?  Well, if there's one thing I've noticed about people and their "journals," they all follow the same pattern.  For example, people start a journal or a diary usually out of boredom.  It's something to do when you have nothing to do.  Then, when life becomes suddenly busy, our good friend, Mr. Journal, is neglected.  Oh boo hoo!  This poses an important question: why does anyone bother?  Is it simply out of boredom; simply something to do to pass the time?  Perhaps, but there is more to be said for something so private as a diary that only the author should have access to the sacred pages within.  Somewhere deep within our author's narcissistic mind there is an underling hope that someone else will read the sacred scribbling of a lonely man.  Ah yes, and of course it is within those boastful passages of self praise and self defeat that a stranger may begin to understand the broken clockwork that makes our author tick.

        What really blows my mind is the simple fact that although the author places great significance in the events within his secret sonnets, the average daily reader could often care less.  Yet, there are plans for an underground railroad being secretly mapped out on pages of bound linen (and now in the precarious 11010011 01101100 bits of binary code seen here).  For what reason?  Because the author is bored.  Or lonely.  Maybe he needs some attention.  So, go on, read his book.  Trust me, he'll never know.