orange-throwing sex goddesses
Recently I was having a discussion with someone about being totally anonymous in online diaries. I thought I was paranoid, but this girl is much more paranoid than I. I simply don't want my online persona and my real-life person to overlap (much), but she avoids mentioning the city she lives in, her age, her living situation, and, until recently, her gender.
Doesn't this seem somehow limiting? I'm sure it's completely possible to write an engaging and interesting diary without getting into specifics, but don't specifics always improve any piece of writing? Would this web nonsense I'm doing here be the same if I never mentioned any of my El flasher experiences, for fear of giving away my location?
I suppose it goes back to how you perceive your “true self.” Do you have a “soul” (or whatever) that has nothing to do with your age/gender/circumstances/experiences? Do those variables shape or simply inform who you “really” are? And just who are you, really?
I mean, I like reading diaries that are mostly just beautiful passages of writing about philosophical subjects. And I'm strangely drawn to diaries that are written by people in crisis: divorces and breakups and breakdowns and so on. But what I really like are people who don't really have anything that dramatic going on, but write funny/sympathetic/detailed prose about standing in line at the bank or how their aloe plant just died.
Why in the world did I start writing about this? And by the way, somebody slap me if I ever use the words “true self” in an entry again.
Oh Meximick, I wish I had your problem. I never have a violent urge to leave the bar in the middle of a drinking binge. I have a violent urge to stay, and stay, and stay, and force other people to stay, and lie to complete strangers, and re-name the bartender (past names I've forced on bartenders include “Skippy” and “James Brown.”)
I think I overuse this page-a-day calendar of medieval words as diary fodder, but sometimes the passages just crack me up. Consider this example of fun and games in the Middle Ages:
Shrove Tuesday is the climax of carnival season, about which John Brand comments in his Observations on Popular Antiquities: “During the carnival, the ladies amuse themselves in throwing oranges at their lovers, and he who has received one of these on his eye, or has a tooth knocked out by it, is convinced from that moment that he is a high favorite with the fair one, who has done him so much honor. Sometimes a hand-full of flour is thrown full in the man's eyes, which gives the utmost satisfaction, and is a favor that is quickly followed by others of a less trifling nature.”
If you know what I mean, heh heh.
So the next time you're sitting in a bar, and the cute girl in the suede miniskirt seems to be looking at you, and then she takes an orange out of her purse and throws it at you and knocks out your tooth, make a stop at the condom vending machine because there will be some ACTION TONIGHT!