Today I am feeling strangely light. It might just be because the morning has been milder than it has been for many a month; perhaps it's because I finally gave my head a buzz, which I'd been meaning to do for nearly two weeks (though now I look rather like a shaved rat); maybe it's because I was at last able to pay an outstanding bill from 2023. But maybe it's because of something that I first thought of as disastrous. Last night, just after I finished my diary entry, the document where I was saving it converted into a temporary file, which I can neither open nor restore. At first it caused me a lot of anxiety; I had lost my history from May 18 to September 3 this year. But then I shrugged and started a new diary segment. Perhaps in time I would be able to recover the file, and until then, what had I really lost? The record of when and how much I had pooped? In the meanwhile I can live "unburdened by what has been," to borrow a phrase. I haven't lost any unreproduceable creative writing, and most personal things (like getting new books) are recorded here. 'On with the dance; let joy be unconfined.' Also, I'm not so urpy. A chunk of my recent time goes as unrecorded as more than five decades before it; big difference.
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