Says joegod in a sort-of-related recent post:
"It's become apparent that I duped myself after all. I really did think for a while that I could learn more about my life from writing about it. What explained otherwise was the steady experience of leaving so much unsaid. What I write doesn't make sense anyway, so maybe I say nothing. The thoughts are too fast and furious and definitively ambiguous to lay out and nail down. I must stop thinking of my journal and life as somehow analogous."
Well, I've never had quite that particular problem. I've always written partly for other people's amusement; it never even occured to me that I could use a journal to learn about my life. Nice to know that doesn't work.
For your amusement and information:
Catherine (opera_angel) couldn't make it to this party I was planning to take her to, but everything worked out okay, anyway. Well, except for Catherine. Sucks to be her, I guess.
Oh, and Corey Strong is a capital, A-1 nice guy. And I was happy to see Mike and Jenny and the other usual suspects. It was good times.
Now I have to put Paul to bed before I can go to bed, and Mom wants me to feed the horse at 6am. Fuck that, she's getting fed at 9, since I just fed her now (4am) anyway. I'll still have to make it work out so that the extra feeding isn't on the barn floor when she gets back. OMG responsibilities. I envy all you kiddies who have your own places and don't have to look after disabled stepfathers and expensive barnyard animals you fought tooth-and-nail not to have to put up with.