Hello, I saw you, I know you, I knew you

[cyrano]

So I was going to make a scattered updatey post because I'm not going to Tucson this weekend but I still may go to LA and I got Zim on the front porch but then I decided that really nobody cares so I'm not going to bother.

Comments

[cyranocyrano.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I'm hearing that, actually. I just... the mundane 'laundry list' posts never felt properly Literary--if it wasn't a critique or a punditial exposition or a dry witty commentary in a Garrison Keillor/Eddie Izzard style then it didn't meet the standards and I was just slumming.
It's silly, you're right. Which doesn't mean it doesn't happen to me on occasion.

[irismoonlight.livejournal.com]

Oh, dear goddess. If I had to live up to those standards every time I put fingers to keyboard, I'd never write a word. Which might make some people happy, but others not, and it would leave me frustrated and stifled.

Which is not to say I don't also feel like I'm writing nothing but jello most of the time. So what? It's my jello. And ... once in awhile it's a crystal-clear ice sculpture, to stretch a metaphor past its breaking point. I'd never write anything worth reading if I didn't also type a lot of dreck. (And that's a sentiment I've heard from Real Authors I respect, too. *grin*)

[cyranocyrano.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I just don't always feel that I should make other people read the stuff in between. Because, again, I'm being silly and assuming that my LJ is the Samuel Pepys Diaries and in two hundred years college students will be poking at each entry and so every single one should be a taut and shining work.
Rather than being a way to let the people I love keep up with my life and inviting them to communicate with me in return.