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2003-01-13 | 6:00 p.m.

I find it so uncomfortable to write that Duff agreed to ask around at work about voice recognition software. "Youíll still have to edit it," he warned me, but I said thatís all right. It doesnít hurt so much when I first sit down but by the time I get up, ages and ages hence, itís a royal pain.

What makes it worse is that I want to write loooooong things. I notice a number of people I used to read have been killing off their diaries. And my own has felt sort of stale to me, and heavy, for quite a while now. But I refuse to give it up entirely. You can't get rid of me that easily. I'm convinced that all I need is a little shift in perspective to freshen things up. I mean, come on, it's a fucking diary. Why would I stop? This has been the great success of my career as a diarist! I have about fifteen paper journals that stop abruptly somewhere in the dank recesses of the 1980s and '90s. That was always my standard operating procedure. This online diary has lasted for four-and-a-half years now. I'm proud of that.

But then there's also the staleness factor. So I started another diary to use as more of a blog, for shorter entries (because I am writing tiny entries in my head the whole time Iím awake and even sometimes when I'm not) and to try to use this one for slightly more formal and finished writing. I have the idea that I want to write down stories from my past and present along with essays about the people in my life. In other words, stuff I might have a use for later; story as opposed of feeling.

Who knows if I'll manage it. But I think itís good to try.

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