i want to..

..crumple together all the pieces of paper on my table and the loose ends that have no resolution into a gigantic paper ball, light a sparkler and set it aflame.

Truth be told, I don't dare to put my thoughts online. I have many dairies - a paper dairy (the present book is one in a series that started circa 1991), an electronic dairy on my hard disk, and this online - and I've grown increasingly guarded in all of them. I use pseudonyms, drop miniscule pathetic hints about what really happened, hoping and crossing my fingers that somehow it'll all come back to me when I need it.

Who am I bluffing? I have a terrible memory! Sometimes I read my diary entries and can't even convince myself that the words describe my life. Sometimes I can hardly remember who I was 5 years ago.

I wonder if the me of the future will again become the me of the past in its wandering through life.

In fact, I think I'll give the me of the past some kindly (and useless) advice with the brillant help of hindsight:

(sorry. can't think of anything right now. ha!)