Diary Fragments II

             —For Julz Booth-Jones

Truman Capote, author of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and In Cold Blood, described his diary as a ‘hieroglyphic shambles’. He said that when looking back over his old journals he was frequently baffled by entries of which he had no recollection. ‘God knows what “Thunder on Cobra Street” refers to,’ he pondered. I, too, came across many jottings in my diaries that left me wondering what on earth I was on about.

In addition to these cryptic scribbles, I noticed that I am also quite an avid list maker, though not nearly as obsessive as Susan Sontag, renowned for her exhaustive lists of, well, everything. For example: “Things I like: fires, Venice, tequila, sunsets, babies, silent films, heights, coarse salt, top hats, large long-haired dogs, ship models, cinnamon, goose down quilts, pocket watches, the smell of newly-mown grass, linen, Bach, Louis XIII furniture, sushi, microscopes, large rooms, ups, boots, drinking water, maple sugar candy.”1

Following my last Writer’s Block piece, here are some more of my journal entries and accompanying photos, covering the period of my last few weeks in France and my relocation to Vietnam. Once again, I must mention that I took the liberty to change names and details where necessary. And by necessary I mean wherever the hell I felt like it.

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(W)here: Diary Fragments I

For Mom & Dad

Oscar Wilde famously said, “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read [on] the train.” Well, rereading my diaries recently was about as sensational as a trip to the supermarket for eggs. But, needing to fill my new monthly column with words written mostly by me, and wanting to find the most . . . convenient way to do it, I realized that all I needed to do to hit my word count was reproduce some of the scribblings made on my meanderings around this sad, absurd, beautiful, litter-strewn McWorld.
           
I’ve kept a diary on and off since I was ten, but the oldest diary I have with me is from late 2016, when I was working in France. And this is where I will start.

Continue reading “(W)here: Diary Fragments I”