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the small bit that I find time for, compartmentalised and strange, however normal my hour-to-hour existence may be as I actually live it. I think that those of us who keep journals of this nature have a portion of themselves who is pure recorder and observer -- disattached from the events, content merely to write down and ruminate, while it is the other self, the person who is active, who doesn't notice the full scope of the life being lived. Hence, the observer can consider something strange, while the actor (in the sense of one who is active and doing) can consider it perfectly natural. I wonder if the pathology of diarists has ever been undertaken as a serious study. Not that I, at this age, am proposing that I start.
My, I do go on. It is well past the hour for |