This was once a diary: it was small, bound in black satin printed in a whimsical pattern, and had a tiny lock to keep people out. But, no one cared enough to pick the lock and so, since I’m keen on attention, I’ve been forced to spill my guts all over this blog.
A note: not everything you read here is true. Even I’m not always sure what is and what isn’t.
I heart this, my friend. Good late-night (for me, 12:38 pm is late-night) reading.
Nice catch with the ‘little black diary’ bit K. Perfect analogy of course. Beautiful.
But diaries are usually filled with juice and vigor and perhaps even a scandal. Such that drives otherwise trusted friends, loved-ones no less, to engage in covert drawer snooping. Like theives. When no one is watching they scramble and search for the blasted diary in a grasping attempt to know the author, to read her thoughts and to walk the tight rope as her secrets unfold.
The diary author draws her reader to a place where there is no control. By some force of nature, the reader keenly, on the brink of federal privacy laws, searches for the author’s hiding places. If found, the diary’s lock does not always open. Thus keeping in tact the saga.
What happens next I’m not exactly sure.
{just having some fun Trouble – you have a great writing style. Makes reading easy.
I will enjoy your blog}