"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>every breath you take…

>some disturbing news reached me this evening.

walked into the theatre, working a shift. with my theatre fags. my girls. and everything is lovely. familiar. like it’s been for the past 2 years. love my theatre. the staff, some of my dearest friends. the walls tell a story every time i pass through the arches. the stage is a home.

then news that someone was searching for me a few days earlier.

someone walked up to the box office, and specifically asked for me, saying he reads my blog religiously, and that apparently we know each other.

he left no name.

i know lots of people read my blog (i have three tracking devices, for fuck’s sake), and i know most of these people i’ve never met. different cities. different countries. languages cross time zones. transnational and strange.

that’s fine. that’s actually very cool, i appreciate the readership and i adore the fact that many of you come back. i wouldn’t have a blog unless i felt that my words were suited for a wide audience. i believe in the validity and the power of the internet to broadcast various ideas, feelings, and creative projects.

but coming to my work is crossing a line. forget the fact that it’s inappropriate.

it’s creepy.

if you apparently know me, then you would probably feel the need to leave your name, “hey, tell her richard stopped by. could you tell her paul stopped by? make sure she knows ben was here to see her.”

it’s not hard.

whoever you are, mysterious reader . . . SO not cool.

(ironically, this news comes at a time when my dear friend sofi is shutting down her blog after 2 years of notoriety for almost the exact same reasons.)

speaking of jobs . . . i got another one this morning. hired on the spot. in the travel/tourism industry.

i think you’ll understand if i keep the company name a secret for now.

got a phone call from notho this evening. meeting tomorrow for chai teas, fruit smoothies, and snooty baristas at tequila bookworm to yap about desire, doom, vices, and everything Can.Lit. (or “CLit” for brevity’s sake) doesn’t want you to talk about.

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6 responses

  1. Katy

    That’s terrible. I’ve been a fan of your blog for so long now and the mere thought of showing up at your work creeps me out beyond belief. Sorry you had to go through that!

    August 31, 2006 at 5:24 AM

  2. >That’s terrible. I’ve been a fan of your blog for so long now and the mere thought of showing up at your work creeps me out beyond belief. Sorry you had to go through that!

    August 31, 2006 at 5:24 AM

  3. I agree, it is definitely weird.I saw you once on Queen St, but I didn’t say hi because I thought: WTF? Do I say “Hi, I, like you know, read your blog. So um… hi.” I felt creepy, LOL. I couldn’t imagine actually seeking someone out!

    August 31, 2006 at 10:05 PM

  4. >I agree, it is definitely weird.I saw you once on Queen St, but I didn’t say hi because I thought: WTF? Do I say “Hi, I, like you know, read your blog. So um… hi.” I felt creepy, LOL. I couldn’t imagine actually seeking someone out!

    August 31, 2006 at 10:05 PM

  5. That’s it… I’m stalking you now, just for fun. Well, I guess it’s not really stalking if we PLAN it…

    September 1, 2006 at 1:57 AM

  6. >That’s it… I’m stalking you now, just for fun. Well, I guess it’s not really stalking if we PLAN it…

    September 1, 2006 at 1:57 AM

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