This is my one hundredth diary entry, which I suppose shouldn't pass unmarked. I don't quite know how you celebrate on a blog, you can hardly string bunting around the blog, blow and hang up balloons, or cut a cake - or may be you can!! It was David who suggested I start a blog, and he helped me get it set it up. My opening Diary entry on the 16th August 2005, wasn't very extensive, it consisted of three short paragraphs on - What use is this blog? I didn't quite fully believe blogs were for me at the time, in fact an entire year went by before I even attempted another entry. I guess the motivational phrase is, 'it didn't have buy in from me.' But once it did, then there appears to have been no stopping me. What I decide to post hasn't changed much during the following three years. I haven't posted a poems on the blog in a long while, but that's because I've stopped writing them ( Now why was that?)
I rarely re-read my previous diary entries. They are more momentary snapshots from which, hopefully, I've moved on. They may have a recognisable pattern too them, because of how I experience things, and also how I chose to write about them. A blog diary, for me, isn't a confessional medium, more of an exploratory one. I express what my experience has been, understand better what I've felt about it, and refine my expression of all that, during the process of writing. There is a healthy amount of self-censorship. Most of the time, any subsequent revision is just me faffing with words, punctuation, grammar, or sentence structure. I seem to be concerned about the precise form of expression, rather than re-editing the content/subject matter.
In reality its a bundle of around 30-40 people a week who regularly check out the blog. You know who you are! It feels a slightly curious state of affairs to not know who you are. But then that anonymity is, I guess, a major part of the appeal of the Internet. You can briefly step into any ones world and experience, and out again, without anyone noticing. No one knows or cares what you regularly look at, with the exception of governments or advertisers.
Anyway, Hurrah! Hurrah!! Hurrah!!! - strings of bunting are stretched from here to there - a few muti-coloured balloons perched like testicular growths up there in the corners - and a very large fruit cake, with marzipan and royal icing, is crumbling in my virtual mouth, even as I write.