If I had a diary, tonight I would write in it:
I wish my life was interesting enough to justify a diary.
But then I would write:
But tonight, I do have something to write about!
And then I would write the following:
After work today I jumped on the 6 and jaunted up to the Upper East Side for a poetry reading at the New York Society Library, a 250-year-old subscription library that is pretty much your quintessential UES establishment. Upon entering, I immediately wanted to take up residence. I'd only ever been to one poetry reading above 14th St., and not one above 59th. It was a refreshing change of pace, atmosphere-wise. Uptown and downtown really are on separate planets, it seems. Anywayyyy...
And then I would probably describe the reading and tell about how much I enjoyed the whole experience.
I used to keep an actual notebook journal, but that idea seems so lonely now. To write knowing that no one will ever read what you're writing. What a strange thing. It's almost literally "talking to yourself".
But I did enjoy writing my age—in days—at the top of every entry. I've lost track of that number. I wonder if I've hit 9,000 yet...
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