On the other hand, perhaps this diary has more in common with a performance than it has with literary art, for while I’m interested in what I have to say, and in fact discover what I want to say by saying it, so that language becomes, if I’m using it well, a living medium, as opposed to a series of phrases a reader has heard before, and whose trajectory can be guessed at, or anticipated, and thus experienced as boring…yes, what I’m most aware of, in my approach to this diary, in spite of my interest in what I have to say, is not what I do say, but only that I want to say something, as if the act of showing up each day, or being here, wherever that here might be, is more important to me than what I produce when I am here, though what I produce does matter to me too.