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Kindle Notes & Highlights
When it comes to subject matter, all diarists are different. I was never one to write about my feelings, in part because they weren’t that interesting (even to me) but mainly because they were so likely to change. Other people’s feelings, though, that was a different story.
Another old-fashioned practice I maintain is carrying a notebook, a small one I keep in my shirt pocket and never leave the house without.
The following morning I’ll review what I jotted down and look for the most meaningful moment in the previous day, the one in which I felt truly present.
I don’t really expect anyone to read this from start to finish. It seems more like the sort of thing you might dip in and out of,
a typical entry would go on for pages—solid walls of words, and every last one of them complete bullshit.
This project made evident all the phases I’ve gone through over the years, and how intensely.
I’d reread the entries that featured these people and curse myself for not including more. Why did I not transcribe their every word? And shouldn’t I get cracking so that when friends and family members die in the future I’ll have something greater and more comforting to reflect upon? That’s the thing with a diary, though. In order to record your life, you sort of need to live it. Not at your desk, but beyond it. Out in the world where it’s so beautiful and complex and painful that sometimes you just need to sit down and write about it.
It’s one thing to ask a question as you’re landing at your destination, but under no circumstances do you begin a flight with a conversation.
When given a voice, our flag is not someone you’d choose to spend a lot of time with.
