Anonymity...

is only rewarding when someone is actually trying to find out who you are. I'm not the first writer to conceive of herself as a character in the unfolding events of her life. Philip Roth comes to mind as one contemporary who has done this far more successfully than I could ever do.

This blog began because I wanted to tell the truth of my life without fear of that truth being found out. Something of a cross purpose, wouldn't you say? I loved, but wanted to hide that love under a bushel because I knew it could not, would not be returned. Or later, because I was enamored of the concept of a me that had splintered off from my primary personage, who was me, yet also something more, something different.

How successful is a literary construct once the lid has been lifted? It depends, I guess.

Unrelated. I named the iPod. It's a boy, I feel. His name is Kafka. I am so predictable.