Is blogging just reality TV for nerds? You know my celibacy status and the names of my friends. Who are you people, anyway? Blogging is the most banal graffiti ever and the only way to make it in any way interesting is to lie. Because here is a true fact: anyone who’s actually leading an interesting life is too busy to sit down and log it.
I have long believed in the sanctity of journals, ever since I met my best friend Anais Nin. I started keeping a journal in 1999, the same year I dropped out of school, when my life started. But a journal, there’s a romance to that, you can carry it in your pocket (if you have enormously large jeans) and scribble in it while your clandestine lovers are in the john, you can write in it on the subway at 4 a.m. on your way home from a secret stalking mission. This is…what, it’s public, it’s obvious, it’s cheap gratification. Unless you lie. Then it’s art.
So, as I fail to have an actual interesting life, from here on out it’s lies lies lies. You’ve been warned.
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