Well, yeah, with a little (OK, a lot) of help from my friends. The site is hosted by Logjamming, and is powered by Movable Type. The folks at both these fine companies helped me through the insanity of getting this site up and running. They rock. Plain and simple.
Um, hell YES. If I actually wrote about the things that usually occupy my empty little head, then I might actually get email.
I leave things out because I like to keep my life (and subsequently most of my weird little idiosyncrasies) separate from what I do online, because not all the things on my mind are mine to make public, because I have different reasons for writing each, etc., etc., etc.
Oh, and here's a tangential, but major little point for me: I've come to loathe mundanity (stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Webster), which is why I tend not to write about how I woke up late and had a bagel for breakfast and how my dog did the funniest thing today and what my mailman said to me when he dropped off the mail and how long it's been since I...whatever, you get the point. And yes, I recognize the subjectivity of this, but I'll define it for myself as I go along, thank you very much. (By the way, I save all the mundane things to put in emails to certain dear friends who are constantly there for me to listen to me bitch and moan about the banality of my everyday existence. They're the ones who help me get through the day and I love them for it. You know who you are.)
I mostly write to please myself. I love the process and my reasons for publishing this site in a public forum are simple: good old-fashioned experimentation. Why climb Yosemite? Because it's there. Why publish a Web site? It's something to do.
I'd like to think that there is still in Quincy a restaurant called Raphael's. It's the first place I ever had water flavored with lime and lemon; a single slice of each swayed in the bottoms of the heavy glass pitchers.
The food was exquisite--delicately prepared and gorgeously presented. The servers were silent, beautiful, and enormously polite. They wore flawless white shirts with collars starched, and black trousers that seemed tailored to the individual.
It was a good space. Teak beam glowing in the sun. Pure white linen and sparkling silver.
I write things like that to examine memories that otherwise would not have a voice. If I can put them down in words clear enough, evocative enough for someone else to see what I see in my mind's eye, then that gives me pleasure. That's all there is to it. I take my current mood and select a memory that encapsulates this. It's like choosing the right song for a particular moment.
That's like asking the Lone Ranger to remove his mask, for crying out loud. A-n-o-n-y-m-i-t-y. Plain and simple. I don't want to have to worry about being judged...I get enough of that in real life. I like being fairly anonymous (except of course to those of you who know me and know this is my site); it gives me the freedom to be outlandish. We all gotta cut loose sometime...
Heh. I'm not even going to tell you what went through my mind when I first read this questions. Survey says: Could it BE more Chandler???