2017-03-29 - 12:45 p.m.
This website cracks me up. Still, I have a fondness for it, for the time I spent on it, the time I spent reading about people I'd never met. It always made me think of the idea of the message in the bottle, for some reason. I guess the intimacy and the far-ness, all mixed together, the one reliant on the other.
Anyway, it cracks me up because, while it was never anything flashy (indeed, probably a lot of people liked just that) now it's clearly a 1989 Plymouth Sundance with no brakes, no steering, no heat, a rusted lawnmower in the backseat. But the engine runs, sort of, and maybe that's an idea. Let's see how broken-down it gets. It's like that first interplanetary hunk of gadgets we sent out back in the 70s: arthritic and freezing but still goddamn blinking.
So, blink on, Diaryland, you beautiful crank.
PS: If I follow you and your diary is password-protected, there is a 108 percent chance that I no longer have your password, and so if you could pass one along, I'd be grateful. You beautiful cranks.
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