| I don't know how the bloggers do it. How can they write about their lives with such gleeful or willful abandon, in pure public?
My life (and i imagine everyone else's, as i can't assume myself to be unique) is a knit of relations. To understand how, why i live is to grasp however fleetingly my understandings of the people (places, things) around me and my relations to them. In an anonymous forum, it's possible for me to explicate them (the people, the relations, the events) with candor, to take a snapshot. For the snapshot to stand, to have meaning to its anonymous audience, i have to build the supporting frame of context. For me to build context is to make generalizations, to make verbal things that are assumed or hidden, unspoken ground rules and judgments, which can be tailored to the vignette for the sake of consistency.
Anything static describing a relationship cannot be true.
This is all fine if i am creating art for an anonymous audience. I use the raw materials of myself (and so, without their permission, of others) and build something that the audience can infuse with their own meaning.
Quel coincidence! Je m'appelle Monsieur Smith aussi!
Words conjure blank faces, assign to them attributes, the reader/voyeur assigns meaning and turns it into his own play.
Except when the voyeur finds himself cast. My friends know i write. So they read it. And, but, so, then i can't write about them, because of the hardness of even this fluid medium. Because this becomes a power relationship i don't want to have.
I have the power of interpretation.
They have the power of surveillance.
They know what i'm thinking.
I control their portrayal.
Could you be comfortable with this, could you remain true? | 
