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Reaching 1000 was interesting

This morning I woke up and realized it was my 1000th journal entry on Day One. One of the features Day One has is this cool On this Day” thing which gives a person a look back at previous years and diary entries on the same day historically. I have sometimes found this to be distressing, difficult, funny and illuminating on the current writing in the journal.

The Journal really has no form or format for me. All holds barred and I do not hold with the idea to never publish something you would not want someone else to read. I mean what the hell is the purpose of a personal journal anyways. Nor would I ever publish all this to a book or a PDF or some other online thing like a blog or lift blog posts and put them in my Journal. The two are not really so different in many regards anyways. I have written innermost thoughts on the blog and have written externally facing things on the journal. Perhaps it is like a many faceted mirror and the reflections of myself I see. On the one panel I see this side of myself. The other facet is this other perspective. But they are both fueled with words. I’ve arrived and left places because of words. To me the word is the constant in the mirror and whether I write like this or I write something in the journal the main thing is the doing of it.

Some things bleed over each way. I don’t have some intermediate or end game digital garden or second brain. For me, it is like,

what the fuck for really?

It would be just another place to contain words. I don’t do notes and I don’t carefully write about what I read. Reading is escapism and fun and some learning because another person thought enough of their words to share them. I don’t read many blogs either because a lot of them are crap. I especially eschew travel and lifestyle bloggers because all their passport stamps and countries visited miss the entire point of the going to me. Their affiliate links and promoted content and guest bloggers and all the stuff they do including the puffy parts on attempting to build a conscience with a blog are patently nonsensical and we all know what they are after… it is not the words that bring them along or the people in the places they write about. So I cast them into the lot of snake oil salespeople who trot out a patented fix from the covered wagons of their blogs. Read this, try this product. It will fix what ails you.

Then what is the entire purpose to me of both the journal and this? It is the creation itself. Both acts filled with words that transport and lift and disappoint. So be it. It is okay for you not to like what I write or even read it. For me, like with the 1000th diary post it is enough to simply write the thought down, to find virtual pen and paper and express myself. Warts and all.

In the end

There is no end. Edward Abbey once wrote about trails and I’ll leave you with that.

May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you — beyond that next turning of the canyon walls.

Source: Edward Abbey

And so it was. Because once in a lifetime I lived a place where beauty also reigned and moments came and went much like those mountains Edward speaks about. If you want a reading assignment, may I humbly suggest partaking of his Desert Solitaire. Perhaps you will learning nothing but Edward’s words have always transported me to the desert places, the lonely crags, the wondrous views.

Up next I know I said last blog post… But I find a thing which seems so cool yet so private to my own experience that I just feel like writing on it. I am a day early but I have Last Day in Puerto Vallarta
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