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His Explanation
There has been some confusion among my vast readership as to what the hell is up with my posting of outdated journal entries.
My nephew, just awarded his PHD from LSU, did ask--"what the, I mean, whyya whyya doin that thing? There's a date at the top and one at the bottom...?"
"Well it's complicated," I began telling this nephew during his not so recent visit. I went on to say, "hey you wanna beer?"
Now I get a similar query from my overseas friend. She was so bored recently that she asked me to write her just to break up the monotony of her day and when I did she was overwhelmed by the magnanimity of my effort, which was really nothing considering the tradeoff value this woman represents in her capacity as my "French Girlfriend." She said something like, "hey, thanks for writing." A few days later I get this from her--"what the, what the, I mean whyya doin that, that weird dating thing?" And although she does not have a PHD, this friend was at least somewhat smarter than me in high school.
So what is up with all these brilliant people drowning in confusion? I really can only answer that to the extent that their confusion relates to my past-dated journal entries.
I started writing in '97 about my New Orleans experiences. I was emailing them to my pal in N. Virginia. And then I added to the mailing list my pal in Bucks County. And then his brother in NY, and then a few other people, never totaling more than seven or eight. The writing was like therapy, not, of course, that I needed any therapy, being so famously well adjusted, but I noticed myself feeling relatively better when I did write as opposed to when I did not write. It was like a drug, and I became like a junkie. The writing was adding to my life a certain joie de vivre, and who doesn't need a good French phrase now and again.
My Virginia pal suggested I start doing HTML. What that is? I wanted to know but he never really answered me and so I sort of figured out what it was on my own. Then, in the spring of 2000 I am electronically introduced to this NY Webmaster who has a sight on the Internet (digitalmediatree) and he says send some stuff if you want and that's what I do. And he makes it so I don't really have to know jack about HTML, which is the written code language you really have to know something about if you're going to post anything on the Internet. My friend had given to the Webmaster, for his entertainment, a hardcopy of my previous two years of emails prior to introducing us, and so this spring in NY while forcing me to eat good food and drink outrageous wine, and the Webmaster suggested I post some of the stuff I had written prior to 2000, I said okeedokey. And I had been thinking about doing that anyway and was grateful for the suggestion. It was just like when my French Girlfriend asked me to write her last week. All you gotta do is ask. I do requests.
And so I hope that clears it up. Also, there is no truth to the rumors that I am bored with the present and have nothing to say, just as there is no truth to the rumors that I am gleeful about the politcal demise of Trent Lott.