Journal entry, I don't care if you read it or not.
Saturday, Apr 29, 2023
I wrote a journal entry yesterday and specifically said that it was experimental, and asked for peeps not to read it. I did not email it to anyone but left it on the website.
Well, six rule-breakers went ahead and opened it with the fiendish delight of someone expecting to escape with something really worthwhile. But what they ended up with was one of my stories.
Today, I won’t say not to read it, but I won’t ask you to read it either. Win-win for me.
I had a first-time experience this last week that I want to tell you about, but in order to let everyone preserve their dignity, I won’t give names.
I am used to large-scale derision in the comment sections after most of my stories.
This week, however, was the first time, I have been told that my writing diminished the value of the platform where I was writing. That reader went on to imply that “my type” are going to be the downfall of the very country where live.
This was prompted by an article I published on how to write with an alias, a nom-de-plume, in Medium rather that one’s real name. The reader started on me about how he would call himself anything he wanted, as he was name-fluid and didn’t have to keep his birth name. Therefore, whatever he chose, was indeed his real name, not some arbitrary words on a birth certificate.
I thought he was trying to kid an old kidder, so I made what seemed to me at the time to be the reasonable response that I understood, because I preferred to be known as a Porsche 911 owner/driver, a statement to which he took some umbrage.
So let this be the lesson learned. If you ever think someone has made a joke, ask before you laugh. we have indeed become a sensitive bunch, and we don’t take kindly to jerks who are trying to diminish Medium and cause ruin to the country we have decided we currently belong to.
This story was NOT made up. you couldn’t make this stuff up.
Well, I could, but I didn’t. Here is the original article.
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This is the Saturday our homeowner’s association had decided to have the massive neighborhood yard sale. I say massive on a rather weak level, of course, because there exist too many time-requiring activities for the younger neighbors.
There is a lot of code to be written, online games to be played, and adulting lessons to be watched on YouTube.
But this activity is right in PJ’s wheelhouse, and she was thrilled at starting the merchandising before dawn, and dealing with surly hoards of people well-prepared to barter your socks off.
Luckily, I was ill-prepared to carry the goods outside, while using Mr. Cane to keep fairly upright. But she marched on.
I did get to help for a few minutes, while she went inside to grab something to eat. Almost immediately a lady walked up and asked me about the history of a statue of an elephant I had never seen before.
It only took a couple of swings of my cane to convince her she was not that interested.
Rude.