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2001-08-29 / 10:11 p.m. ~Reading Diaries/Oh yeah, I'm 48% gay~ I just spent about 3 hours reading MyMichele's diary, really, the WHOLE thing. And before that it was GeneM's diary, but not the whole thing, but which lead me to his girlfriend/ex-girlfriend's diary, which I'm too tired to look up and link to right this moment. Yes, exhausted, very tired, all wrapped up in someone else's life, Ms. Liz, the bisexual college student in love with the wrong guy, or at least I think he's the wrong guy. Liz, the dog lover. Liz, who's had the dorm to herself for quite some time. Oh, it goes on and on and on, and on some more. And it's very entertaining, and I would recommend it. I do that, I find a new diary, one that's interesting, one written by someone who really likes to write, who sort of needs to write, like I do, and I read it, back up, start back at the beginning, assuming it's a night like tonight and I don't even know what's on TV, and work sucks, and I'll never find a way out, and I'll never have sex again, and do I even want to share my body with anyone, and will I ever love again, or be loved by anyone other than N and G? And it goes on, so I'd rather read her life, Liz's life, or Gene's life, if that's really even his name, and his girlfriend/ex-girlfriend's life, and how cool they both have diaries, a sort of "he says/she says" kind of diaryland event thing. A fabulous distraction. Someone actually did a Google search for 'exurbia' and found my diary and clicked on a page, probably said, "Huh?" and clicked right back out again. My brother taught me that word, that was his word, years ago, and I surely doubted him, doubted it was a word, thought he made it up, but he was right, it's beyond suburbia, it's where I lived when the Olympics kicked me out of my favorite place, Midtown, where I lived when I commuted all the way to the coffee shop where I stole that shirt. Hmmm...I'm tired, I'm out, I'm Audi, as the kids like to say. Thanks, Liz, for pointing out that people in their thirties and especially their forties are OLD. Yes, I turned 40 this year, and yes, I don't know what to do with that, I'm not prepared to be 40something, I don't know how to do this, and I keep a diary on a website filled with teens and college students, people like you, people who would think I am old. Yes, it's been a great day. Thank god it's over soon... **Amendment: Not as in to the Constitution or anything, merely to this entry** 11:00ish, P.M. Okay, since the whole automouse debacle (and why am I even mentioning his "name"?), well, I try not to acknowledge the presence of readers, I mean, I mention the Google hits because they're funny, and creepy, but I don't beg anyone to sign my guestbook, I don't talk stats too much anymore (though I check them somewhat obsessively, okay, sue me!)...like many diarists I imagine a reader. I imagine someone reading, so there is a person to whom I'm speaking, writing, but it's not anyone with a face, nor a name. It could be a tree, or a squirrel, or even that bookcase over there...though none of those examples can read. Bad examples. So, there were some people listing me as a favorite, and I was enamored of automouse's writing, so I listed him and he listed me, and then he ripped me a new asshole and I took him off, a "So There!" sort of gesture, and surprise that he did the same thing. Duh. 8 people. That was it. Oh, and all the other diaries I read have so many...15, 26, 37, 150, whatever, but I had 8. That's fine. It's a fucking diary! My list of favorites is not even totally indicative of the list I read, daily. It's merely the list I've thought to create, with some thought, to comment on some special favorites, or people who've linked to me, or whatever the hell.(Whew, yeah, I WAS really tired.....) Okay, three people must have just added me. I hesitated to mention it, to acknowledge it, and I will try not to think too much about it, just go about my business, write in my little pitiful online diary, my angst-filled, longing-filled, ridiculous, often depression ridden life. I'm just whistling away, no one is looking, it's no big thing. But you know what? It's three MEN, and you know how I was starting to write about penises? Yeah, that did it, didn't it? That was the cement! Whoo hoo, this chick likes dick! Yeah! Okay, maybe not, and no need to delete me, I'm basically kidding, and hey, I find it amusing, okay?, but come on...wasn't that it? Drop a note if I'm wrong, or if I'm right, you know who you are. I wouldn't mind knowing, and unlike that asshole who really should forever remain nameless (man, why did I let that wound me so deeply?!), I have invited "interaction" here. G'head, interact, speak now. Was it the genitalia thing? Okay, I've had a few favorite penises. Yeah, a nice clean one is quite enjoyable. I'm 100% hetero...wait, I just took the GayTest a couple days ago and found out I'm 48% Gay, and I've been meaning to write about that here, how funny that test was, how it made me laugh out loud on my little break at work, how I wanted to tell everyone, but only told Lulu yesterday and every time I mention the word "gay" she cringes and I think that's so fucking hilarious! Okay, really, I am tired, this just got me jazzed, you guys linking me. Thanks, okay? Really. I should be more like Liz and come right out and continue to admit that I need the appreciation, I need the attention, fuckhead was right. It's true, sing it loud, "I'm Needy and I'm Proud!". This is silly. It's only because I'm tired. **End Amendment.** I hope I don't let you people down. But, because there are so few of you...I'll know exactly who deletes me if any of you do, and I'll seek vengeance!!! Hah! Cost of the War in Iraq
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