1 09 2008

It’s odd to have people I know in physical life read and respond to me in cyberlife. Not bad, no, but odd, as in curious.

Hm. That doesn’t sound right, either. More like, here’s an opening to conversation which we may not have in person or over the phone. We approach one another differently: both more oblique and more direct.

Ah, the words are evading me. It is something I wonder about in passing out my URL—or, actually, not passing it out. I’m willing to put myself out there as the writer of absurdbeats, but I’m circumspect about my identity beyond the blog. To let people who know me know I write this discomfits me.

But then why write publicly, if not to risk? I worry about my two manuscripts. I want them published, but I also worry, omigosh, people I know might read this. What will they think of these stories? What will they think of me? My stories aren’t autobiographical, but I did write them; do they reveal something about me that I’d rather keep out of sight?

Well, sure, on a very basic level: can I write, or not. But beyond that, and beyond the primitive psychological readings (‘This suggests an xyz personality with clear indications of mno traits.’), a kind of interpretive discernment of how I think or what draws me in or something like that.

Dammit! I really wanted to respond to a couple of my (few) comments and I can barely string a sentence to its end.

Okay. I had a crappy run today and finished it, nonetheless, so I can have a crappy post, and finish it, nonetheless (the response to comments will have to wait). So: I don’t want to reveal anything I don’t want to reveal. It’s okay if I tell you abc about me, but I don’t want you to figure out abc about me. Even more, I don’t want you to figure out efg about me when I haven’t yet done so.

Now, if you’re wrong about efg, no problem: you got nothin’ on me. But if you’re right, you’ve got a bead on me, and even if you mean me no harm, still.

I. Do. Not. Like. This.

Yeah, control issues. At least I know that.