This may be my last journal entry here. It’s not as if, of course, I’ve been a steady patron of these parts, with a solid following that will weep at my exit. To say my posts have been infrequent would be an insult to “infrequent.” No, it’s merely the observation that this may not be where I want to keep what I would call a journal. I don’t mind doing this, but “this,” to me, is a forum. It is public and interactive–essentially a blog–whereas a journal as I consider it to be is a place to record one’s private thoughts. Yes, LiveJournals can be made private, but then why not just record them in, say, Microsoft Word?

That’s not to say the forum doesn’t have a place. Indeed, I enjoy doing this. I do like the interactivity, the sharing of information and resultant commentary. That connection is fun and even thrilling at times. But I want to keep a journal, too, and that’s a private thing. I think it may even need be an analog thing. As a romantic traditionalist I’m a sucker for the pen and paper. My father has recently unearthed a fountain pen he’s had since college and is rediscovering the aesthetic thrill of the scratch and stroke. I’m inclined to do the same, and as I’m sure that I don’t at present have time to do both–keep a handwritten journal as well as an interactive forum–I believe I’ll have to drop the curtain on this for a while. And even then, when I am able, I believe it will be in the form of a website and blog. If I’m going to have a personalized web presence, I’d rather go whole hog with it.

So, on that score, I guess I should bid my audience of at best two, usually one, adieu adieu a-dieu-u. The “usually one” shares my bed, so it’s not as if the separation will be all that substantive, and for my second, well, we still have e-mail, telephone, and getting together–gasp!–in person. I think it will all work out in the end.

The End. . .