Kasey and I enjoyed a delicious brunch at Maggie Brown's in his new neighborhood, which borders Fort Greene and Clinton Hill. Someday I hope I can move to the area with all its cute Brooklyn tree-lined streets. The apartment buildings are so pretty, each with their own stoop.
On my train ride home from Kasey's neighborhood, I read the paper. There's an article in the Times today about how people feel like they have to document their lives: “We are fighting against this whole idea that everything people do has to be constantly chronicled,” Mr. Malice said. “People think that every thought they have, every experience — if it is not captured it is lost.”
Yes, it's true, Mr. Malice. As a writer, I have a very real fear that my life will be forgotten if I don't continue to write letters, emails, stories, keep a blog, and a journal. Of course, I try to bring integrity and honesty to each form of writing. (Well, I may not bring integrity to journaling, but that's between me and myself.) I try to be very careful about writing about other people and respecting/protecting privacy. Most people who are acquainted with me know I keep a blog and tease me about posting constantly. "Is this going on the blog?" is a question I hear about once a week or so. Most often my answer is, "Yes, if that's okay with you." Blogging has become my living photo album and memory book.
Just because I keep detailed accounts of my life doesn't mean I expect anybody to read it; I do it because I like creating and to produce proof that I exist.
