Propounded imbroglio, sub rosa.
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2005-05-10 - 7:59 p.m.
It's so hard to write in your diary without trying to make yourself sound much greater and cooler and more well-loved than you really are. I'm sure by now you all know the story of how I kept the most honest journal I could (in hard-copy-exercise-book format, you guys. This was like, five years ago. Full of all my vanities and insecurites, closely monitored and analysed) and then of course LOST IT in a PUBLIC PLACE and NEVER saw it again, EVER! I secretly think somebody stole it because I had left it lying in a specific place (I think) and I looked everywhere for it once I had the sickening realisation that it was gone. That was my best contribution to the world so far, because it was a terrible joke at my own expense and eventually I came to terms with it. Well, I came to terms with it after a while, but I had planned on moving to another city and I came back here to try and find this stupid diary! WTF I must have been crazy. Mrs. Brown has a real leopard fur hat! She is going to a posh afternoon tea at the Savoy tomorrow and I helped her pick out an outfit for it. I couldn't talk her into that particular hat, though. She chose a very sedate black and white number. A black pleated skirt and a houndstooth jacket also with that. Black old-lady shoes and pearls. Gosh I can't wait to be "dignified and old" - Jonathon Richman and I get it! This afternoon, I just got lost in Mrs. Brown's stories. I feel I know all her old friends, relatives, stamping grounds. Is it just because she went to art school and that makes me have an affinity with her? No, it's way more than that. Her husband seems very real to me too, from her descriptions and anecdotes. He has a wonderful name: Chalmers. It's terrible when people you never met have the audacity to be gone from reach, gone into the foggy arms of some weird archive. And it's the names that make things real for me. So tell me all your family names.
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