If I had a diary, tonight I would write in it:

Dear Diary,

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...