It seems to me (and it probably seems to you?) that this diary I’ve kept on the internet basically has no theme. I sit down every day at the beginning of my day and write whatever comes to mind. I don’t plan entries or organize material in any way. It’s meant to capture something of the types of days we all live and how frenetic they are, disassociated.

Maybe this makes no sense. I don’t know.

Life escapes no matter how hard we try to capture it in art.

There. That’s better stated.

Not that this diary is ‘art.’ In fact it may be the opposite of art which needs patterns to function.

And yet still there is so much of my life that I can’t capture or make sense of, which are probably the most important parts anyway. I can deal with maybe .01% of it here. The rest glides by past memory and interpretation although I may dream about it later.


© Daniel Douglas


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