Diary?

I just finished a reasonably awesome book called Magical Thinking. It's a series of vignettes from the life of gay neurotic genius genius genius Augusten Burroughs. He's uneducated. He's self-obsessed. He's successful. So, pretty much, he's living the American dream of getting columns upon columns of acclaim for writhing on paper. Few to motivate him, none to guide him. So I've been obsessively browsing his website, not least because he's a bit of a looker, that one is, and he gives the advice that those who want to become writers should write every day. It's the same advice every writer gives, really, but it takes someone I want to listen to in order to push an idea through my head. It's like how three people recommended Me Talk Pretty One Day, but I only got to it after Vaughan recommended it. Did I mention why I read Magical Thinking?

In any case, I'm going to attempt to write every day. It's going to be shit, I warn you. I am leading the drab life of the unemployed, which not only gives me limited interaction with the outside world, but also turns discrete events into one long smudge of "day," letting the stories blend in with the rest. I expect my "voice" will change. I just pondered the concept of finding my Voice and noted that it's still not here. Are you imagining Ariel furiously clawing at Eric, trying to demonstrate that the black haired bitch next to him is an evil, butch sea-witch and not the love of his life? I sure am. In any case, I can get into modes...LOL mode, dorky-witty mode, bitter homo mode (I'm right around there now)...but I can't just talk. Then again my audible voice gets into modes, too. Maybe it's hopeless.

But, Goddamn it, I'm going to try. However, now I need to help Natalie get all techy and shit. And by "all techy and shit" I mean she hasn't signed onto her Barnard email yet because it's broken and she barely cares. While I wish she were more thrilled for college, as that would mean a guarantee that she'd actually go come two Mondays from now, I'm secretly really, really proud that she's not getting into "yay, college! I heart Barnard! Best four years of my life!" mode. Because that will only set her up for disappointment...it sure set me up for disappointment, and I only had a toe or two through that door.

In any case, get so unexcited for the diary. Several entries a day. You know you love it 'cause it hurts so good.