Friday, March 06, 2009

Wrong Number

I guess the mystery of the nurse I met at the supermarket Wednesday will remain unsolved. At the time, she asked how to get in touch, I fumbled in my wallet & gave her my card. All the cards have my e mail address & blog url, some have my phone number on them, some do not. That one did, because she left a message on my machine with a cell phone number, a wrong number, which wasn't deliberate because she didn't need to a leave message at all. I'm curious. I wanted to ask her to explain how she knew me. I was expecting she would have only a very vague recollection, & quickly cut to the likely real reason for the call, maybe inviting me to a local evangelical church. It's often enough that, when people are friendly to me.

I'm two persons. There's the solitary, mindin'-my-own-business person, a fairly familiar figure at the 7-11, & at the branch library & stores in downtown Elmora; & there's the internet person. It's very difficult to get the internet person into the picture. Even my art teacher never came here, although I told him many times that he'd find photos, poems, & my amateur attempts at graphic design. I was astonished when another student in the art class looked around my web pages. But she was by far the best artist in the class; the Chair of the Kean University arts dept was trying to get her to enroll there when she finished community college. The internet makes me complicated. In my physical world, I'm accustomed to not revealing much about myself. When I lived in Rahway, at least I could walk over to the art gallery, & the director & I, if he had some free time, might walk down to Mr. Apple Pie restaurant, drink coffee, chat about paintings & jazz, & not have to explain ourselves to each other, & if the Mayor happened to see us through the window, he'd at least think, "There's the artists from the Arts District."

Labels: ,

I am one of those that know the internet you, but not the real time you. Funny, how we've been covering each other's back on the net these past four years, whether on AOL (ah, the good old days in the war room when I was LillyLeftist!) or on my blog.

Ironically, as you may (or may not)know/realize, in the blogosphere, you have always been like a mentor to me. Plus, like me, you've yet to change to the "new" blogger! Ha ha. We've both put so much time and effort into our blogs over the years, neither one of us want to risk losing a single thing in the transfer.

Plus, you've allowed me to open myself up personally on my blog, something that I did not really do the first two years I had it up and running. I feel more comfortable in my blog "skin" these days.

My four year blogiversary coming up in April, yippeee
I just write. I don't need widgets. I used to keep a journal, wrote in it every morning while I sipped coffee, nobody else read it. My blog is just the journal with most of the obsessive stuff left out. I was especially obsessed while falling in love & after breaking up, & now I do neither.
I have 24 volumes of journals that I have kept writing in since 1983, although the last five years the writing has been sporadic, whereas the writing before was daily, even several times a day, necessitating not only that I date the entry but log in the time of the entry.

My favorite part of journal/diaries is picking out the books to write in. They are in groups, as I would buy several books at a time when I found a style I liked. They are in different sizes, some hardbound, some paper and spiral bound.

I also preferred ink pens to ballpoint ones, and experimented with different color ink over the years. I settled, though, on either black or blue. The purple/green/gold and other odd colors I used from time to time made re-reading them too difficult.
I kept it simple. I either typed or used ruled paper, which went into a three ring binder with other stuff - copies of letters, ticket stubs, etc., to make a kind of scrapbook, & those pages were bound by year. Later, I used Smith Corona word processor with data disk storage & printed out. Then a Pc. My portable notebooks were usually a small college ruled (6 x8) with eye eaze paper, I called it the "everything book", & all my old radio setlists are in those, poem sketches, shopping lists, dated on cover when they filled up. Basic Bic black medium point or whatever was handy.
I'll add that as I got older it became apparent my journals had no value, no one would bother to preserve them, I lost interest not only in journals, but in keeping my poems organized, as no grad student would ever be studying them for a dissertation. That's the gamble one takes.
Ironically, while working in entertainment law, I had several producers that knew me, and knew my life and my diaries, approach me to option them for production. I just laughed and said no.

Then, Sex and The City was produced.

My material was far better than Carrie Bradshaw's columns. I kicked myself in the butt so many times for not letting the producers try to make a tv show or movie out of my "life."

Oh well, live and learn, as they say. Perhaps after I pass on, someone will do something with my diaries!
I found your site from the link on Steven Hart's site today. I love hearing of the old places. I lived in Elizabeth from birth in 1953 to 1970 when I left for the first time. Back and forth I went until my final departure in 1989 when I moved to Rome Italy.

The sweet nostalgia I have for the places of my youth is something I truly value.

Thanks for keeping such a good blog. I'll read more.
Post a Comment

<< Home
"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be." Thomas Jefferson

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?