What a presumptuous page title. Why are any of us here, really…?
I love the Griffin & Sabine series. These beautiful books track the mysterious correspondence between two apparent strangers. I like these books in part because they appeal to the voyeur in me.
I like reading other people’s letters. My friends once found a suitcase full of letters left on the curb in SF on bulky trash pick up day. They spent a week or so reading through them, and eventually pulled together a sad story of a mother writing to her son during the Vietnam war. She was still writing to him for a few weeks after he had been killed; she hadn’t yet been notified. (We found the obituary clipping in the suitcase as well.)
I would love to read someone else’s diary. So the blogs that I enjoy the most are the ones where I can pretend it’s just me snooping around in someone else’s thoughts.
And I suppose that’s sort of what I do here: write mostly for myself with the giddy sort of realization that someone might be peaking over my cyber shoulder from time to time, rifling through my e-nightstand when I’m not in the room. I do try to make things mildly interesting, with the idea that people who enjoy snooping — people like me — particularly enjoy snooping through interesting stuff. But for the most part, I’m writing for me. Because I like to write. And want to get in the habit of writing, to (ahem) hone my craft.
So back to you. My guess is you’re here because (a) you like to peek at other people’s diaries (with their silent permission, of course) or (b) you know me and this is a good way for you to keep tabs on me and my life. Why else would you be here?
eleven bee 