What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something looseknit yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace anything solemn, slight, or beautiful that comes to my mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk, or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through.
While this blog isn’t nearly as private as a diary — it isn’t meant to be — I hope it comes close to Woolf’s intentions. I like the idea of offering a kind of intellectual curio cabinet, a deep old desk filled with anecdotes, ideas, quotes, and observations. I don’t intend for there to be any particular theme to this; I have eclectic tastes and interests, mutable thoughts and impressions, and regardless of whatever I would intend, it would inevitably become this: something looseknit but thoughtful, spontaneously and hopefully inspired, flexible enough to accommodate the odds and ends that occupy my mind.
I’ve resisted blogging for years — not that I’ve had anything against it; I’ve just never felt the need. But as I slowly make my entrance, by tiptoe, into the writing world, blogging has become a necessity (or at least a very good idea). Maybe I was too timid to make my thoughts public before now, or maybe I’ve just been waiting for the right frame of mind to begin. Either way, I’m here now and I hope you’ll drop by once in a while to keep me company.