cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alone Again Or I, uh. This is what I was trying to make happen, wasn't it? This is what I worked for. Honestly, I have no business complaining about what title they've given to what I am. This sort of thing naturally follows what I deliberately invited. Yeah. So I'm famous now. Oops. Ok. Now what? Fuck. This isn't like being slashdotted for five minutes. This isn't the first boomlet I've had. Not the second or the third. And when you've had this many boolets for various different things there is, I think, a certain permanence to it. This isn't just my '15 minutes'. I have had my fifteen minutes again and again and again. I talked to my agent finally and there are other publishers who want this new book. Yeah, I'm there. Its in demand. The first book was a bit of money, but this one is going to be a lot. I won't see a penny of it for a few months, but its going to be a lot of money. The thing that breaks my heart is that there is nobody to see this with me. I pushed so hard and risked everything to get to this point and I'm not really going to have anyone to share it with. There is going to be more. I'm probably going to do this whole l1onfish project on my own, with my own money, and no grant. And if its successful then I'll probably get some sort of big conservation award and that will be nice. But in its own way that will be just as alienating as everything else. Ok, I get it. This is what I'm in for, indefinitely. Horrible loneliness no matter what I do or where I get to. I think this is just the price that is paid. If you want to change the world or do something really important this is just what its like. Mother Teresa supposedly wrote privately about a vast emptiness during most of her career. Not that I am any Mother Teresa, but her example is worthwhile. A terrible emptiness that meets a constant desire to do something really good and worthwhile that could make the usual run of human crap just a little but better. I miss someone who used to read this. Moments like this, its maybe worse than the moments when nobody is paying attention at all. The things that I am willing to do for someone or something that really matters are stupid and irrational and suicidal. I don't belong in this century. I don't belong in this world. 10:30 p.m. - 2011-01-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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