There are journals, and then there are journals. Take this livejournal for example. It’s more of a journal in the “journalism” sense, a public record of sorts, similar to the newsletter I used to publish and send to all my friends letting them know what was going on in my life. Gad! I haven’t had the time or energy to publish that in years.
And then there is my private journal… and I mean PRIVATE. I’ve been keeping a journal now more or less regularly for over 15 years. Started as a way to vent my thoughts or record what was going on in my life, it was never intended for public consumption. In fact, the only person ever given the opportunity to read any of it is my aunt, with whom I shared what I wrote about her husband (my uncle) when he died. He was a professional writer, and had inspired me when I was a wee sprout.
Here are a few excerpts to give you a sample of what my private journals are like.
February 25, 2001 (afternoon): Well, here I am in flight to Atlanta, Georgia, U.S.A. I’m going there for training for this new assignment at work. I’ve been nervous about this trip for a couple of weeks now for no real reason than Atlanta is not really one of the places high on my list of places to visit.
January 27, 2002 (evening): Has it REALLY been four months since my last journal entry? Wow! So much has happened in that time both in my Life and the rest of the world.
May 16, 2002 (early evening): It’s raining… buckets and buckets of rain. It’s actually a nice late spring day, so I’m sitting on my front porch— my beautiful front porch that needs a fresh coat of paint soon!— relaxing and watching the world go by.
June 1, 2002 (afternoon): I’m sitting here at the Dark Writers’ table in the Convergence VIII Zine Fair. People are wandering by, but few are stopping, and even fewer are buying. Amazingly, though, I have sold three t-shirts so far!
June 3, 2002 (afternoon): We’re on the road, about a half hour west of Cornwall, on our way home from Convergence in Montreal. Dave is driving, his girlfriend (whose name I can never remember) is snoozing in the front seat, and I’m chilling in the back.
January 11, 2003 (evening): I’ve decided to spend a little time writing in my journal, since there’s not a lot happening tonight. To begin with, there’s about ten pages left in this book— this poor book which is falling to pieces, and hasn’t even been given a title— which I started almost two years ago, on my flight to Atlanta for dialer training. In the original days of these journals, I would fill FIVE books in a year, and now it takes me two years to fill one book. … As for anything else that is or is not going on in my Life, that will have to wait for another time, as this volume has finally come to an end!
Eventually, I gave it From Riches to Rags: a tattered collection of various and sundry thoughts as the title. It seemed to fit.
Then next volume had a title from the start: Laurie’s Pussy: a hardcore collection of various and sundry thoughts.
January 20, 2003 (evening): Well, here we are again, in more ways than one. A new journal book, a new journal title, almost a new year, a new trivia season starting tonight, and for Lynne a new home (almost— she takes possession of her condo on Thursday). Perhaps a word or two should be mentioned about the title of this (series of?) journal. “Laurie’s Pussy” It doesn’t refer to any specific “Laurie.” It’s more a general reference to the fact or observation that I’ve been reading a lot of erotica (or sex stories; the “erotic” level or quality is up for debate), and the fact or observation that I’ve known a lot of women/girls named “Laurie” or some variation of the spelling. As far as Laurie’s Pussy is concerned, I’ve never known any of my Lauries well enough to have even SEEN their pussy, never mind get to know it intimately.
So while you might get to know a little about “Laurie’s Pussy” here, you’ll not get any of the totally intimate details. Those are reserved for my own private musings.
