Naissance

April 20

Happy birthday, Tropism.

One year ago, I started Tropism. April 20th (which is, quite coincidentally I assure you, also Stoner's New Year). I had no idea what a good part of my life it would become.

It's been quite a year. Three jobs. Lots of stories. A move across the continent. Innumerable crushes on cute women. Arts festivals, poetry readings, tidepools, terrors, sales, rejections, feasts, accidents, reversals, opportunities, jubilations.

Ah, hell. I don't need to do a retrospective. I have an archive, after all.

But I can be a little bit meta, I think, today of all days. I used to keep a meticulous paper journal, writing in it every day, but Tropism has gradually taken that over-- now I only use my other journal for writing about stuff that, for whatever reason, I don't want to get into here. Tropism has become my day-in-review, my source of perspective, my final-ordering-of-thoughts. I get excited about writing stuff here, about sharing with you guys. I've made great friends directly through this journal. I've joined a community-- a loose, often cantankerous, but thriving community-- of journallers (diarists, escribitionists, whatever). I've had a lot of people write to tell me that Tropism inspires them to write more fiction, or poetry, or whatever, and few things delight me more than hearing that.

I love this. I really do.

I'm going on a whirlwind visiting-people-tour of the Bay Area this weekend, so it's unlikely I'll be able to update again before Sunday or Monday. I'm so acutely aware of my limited time out here, now, that I'm fitting in all the visiting and hanging-out and joyfulness that I can.

So. I'll talk to you all again soon.

Here's to another year, hmm?