This morning I arrived at a site, previously unknown to me, in the ‘journal’ tradition; it wove, with tight accent, vocabulary and grammar, a sad lacerating tale of love lost, infidelity, the painful ordeal of the withdrawal of the loved-being, of soul-destroying oblivion, of astonishment, of suspicion, of dedication, of demons, of clouds, of night—the lover’s discourse—nothing new for the journal you might say, and the subject of many (I can dig up several irksome examples of my own work, and no less tender). In the biographic blurb, I fished out the author’s phrase: “Everything I write here is true.” I didn't understand, true for whom? Is this to be understood as implying a privileged access to the mind of the writer, and how does this affect what she has written? The one truth that we can be sure of is: “Everything I write here I write”, and that should be good enough. The truth never resides in the writing; it is during the moment of our reading that we create it.
I noticed one of the posted comments, following a particular fragment of this fatigue: “I haven't been commenting much recently because I haven’t wanted to intrude on what are obviously very personal posts”. Yet again we see the reader Creating (in this case, the blank fatality of silence). The personal nature of these posts is unveiled not in their content, nor their admission, nor their self-doubt, but in the knowledge that they were posted for us, posted for readers (incidentally, the lover’s discourse is precisely that, it’s not a monologue) and in this sense, can never be personal, can never represent anything other than the self that created the work, not the self of daily life. We read alone, and it is this reading that is personal. The writer will always remain a kind of theoretical fiction, not the subject of a pseudo-psychological language of interpretation.
Our writing becomes truly personal, edgy, at the moment we press the pause button, just prior to clicking ‘publish’.
2 comments:
Wow! To be analyzed and reviewed!
The 'biographic blurb' states 'everything I write here is true' because I am tired of the myriad disclaimers and warnings that accompany writings on the internet (particularly my own, which previously featured heavily): 'this is only a small part of my life', 'i am not really so sad', 'there is more to my life than what I write here at my most melancholy moments', 'all this is imaginary'. I find about me pages superfluous. All I want to say, right now, to anyone that chooses to read my 'journal' is that it is true. True to me. My truth. It is rather more than 'what I write here, I write'. The words I write may not be my own. My story is not written by me alone. I don't believe anyone's is. And, because, as you have pointed out, it is writing in the format of a 'journal' all that matters to me is the truth of it. I'm sure, given the subject matter, you can understand why the truth of my life matters, why I am caught up in the (yes, old fashioned and unfashionable no doubt)authenticity of my being. Truth, itself, is an unfashionable concept and again I am sure that you can understand, having read my 'journal', why I am tired of relativism, at least when applied to the level of the individual. And so, that is why I state that 'everything I write here is true'. It is meant to be provocative. It does not imply a privileged access to the mind of the writer. Rather, it is an act of self defence, or more simply, and act for self. I should also point out, that the about me page is not static. It, like everything else, is reflexive.
Thank you for linking me. I am rather surprised to be in such good company. Particularly of the non 'journal' variety.
I put a link to your site because the writing I find there makes me write all this stuff, and that’s what it’s about at the end of the day, that’s the truth for me. In fact, I wrote far too much, so I've posted it: 'journal'.
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