Diary, diary, diary. What a tangled web you weave… I certainly never intended for it to become this enormous multi-year spanning archive which it seemingly has now evolved into, but strange seeds planted in unnatural earth can bear the most unusual fruit. I suppose there is some amusement to be taken in the fact that my collected diary entries would well out-weigh my thesis by quite a hefty margin.
Sometimes I think about my diary and my mortality, how here would be a gleaming record of my life up to a certain point… and then the rest is silence. Who would know? My friends on email might never find out why I didn't respond to their calls, no-one would know to tell the Adult Anti-Jen people of whom I am so fond.
But in the mean-time I sit here listening to Peter Gabriel's Passion (thank you Sherilyn) and the thunder outside.