“It would be idle to inquire why Mr Razumov has left this record behind him. It is inconceivable that he should have wished any human eye to see it. A mysterious impulse of human nature comes into play here. Putting aside Samuel Pepys, who has forced in this way the door of immortality, [we observe that] innumerable people—criminals, saints, philosophers, young girls, statesmen, simple imbeciles—have kept revealing records, from vanity no doubt, but also from other more inscrutable motives. There must be a wonderful soothing power in mere words since so many men have used them for self-communion. Being myself a quiet individual I take it that what all men are really after is some form or perhaps only some formula of peace. Certainly they are crying loud enough for it at the present day. What sort of peace Kirylo Sidorovitch expected to find in the writing up of his record it passeth my understanding to guess.
“The fact remains that he has written it.
The above is from Under Western Eyes by Joseph Conrad, a Russian-style novel by an English-speaking Pole, written a hundred years ago. Nevertheless it describes blogging pretty well, except that bloggers do wish some human eye to read their postings. The act closely resembles the “message in a bottle” which a shipwrecked sailor or imaginative child might fling into the vast ocean, in an act of faith that it will reach the person whom Fate has appointed.
This doesn’t explain why I keep a blog, nor why I’ve failed to publish much lately, despite a reckless vow (broken soon after being uttered). There’s been no difficulty in appending comments to the blogs of certain others, and I thank them for the opportunity: Paul, Beth and Alistair — not to mention lots of others which I read hoping to have meaningful arguments with them.
To write a post on my own blog is not so straightforward. All I want to do is pay homage to the moment, certain moments. They are not scarce, but their essence is like a fragrance of blossoms caught on the air, which inspires and arouses, but can hardly be caught.
I think the most significant thing I’ve done in this life is to savour those moments. What is the point of trying to translate them into words? Once again I find myself repeating Blake:
He who would bend to himself a joy
Doth the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sunrise.
And (though a true gentleman never does) I want to kiss and tell!
a wayfarer’s notes 
Hello Vincent. I enjoyed reading the Conrad and Blake. Your literary sensibility is genuine.
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Keep telling, because it allows us to share in the glow of that sunrise too…
K
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My Mother recently passed away.
I was unaware that she routinely kept journals of her activities.
I knew that she often wrote things down. But I had no idea how extensive her notes were.
I have had the pleasure of reading her accounts of her days when she was just 17and 18, (Same age as my daughter), and later when she came to visit after my daughter was born.
If these notes were written by anyone but her, I imagine they would be dull. However, her style was so compelling. Full of the emotions she felt at the time, detailed accounts of her interactions with others, and even sketches in the margins to illustrate her tales.
Blogs are today's journals, publicly displayed for those who troll the internet for such things.
Journals such as those my Mother left behind, are private, revealed to close friends and relatives.
I'm quite sure my Mother would not mind having her notes public. The only thing she used more than her pen was the telephone. She told those same tales to everyone she knew.
My Grandmother kept a journal too. However, her notes were far less interesting and revealed little of her personality. Only events described in dry, matter of fact tones.
Blogs can sometimes reflect the personality of their authors, and at other times reveal little.
In any case, I have enjoyed your blog. I suspect, that over time, I have seen some part of who you (Vincent) are through these interactions.
I often wonder if my impressions are correct. Would I be surprised if I met you in person?
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I have a friend who has always let it be known she keeps a journal; it is left lying open on her table. I am sure no-one has been so crass as to tread over her personal and private words, but you wonder why she leaves her diary so available.
Hubby keeps one, a functional daily doings affair when home, however, a wadge of paper to go into a Filofax becomes a record of our activities, after we have been travelling.
I note things that I consider important to the day. Some days will be blank others will have appointments jotted and some days will have illegible notes for a future record, but not one I would necessarily want to invoke.
Blogs are a personally censored affair, at least mine are. I have certain rules that I abide by.
So, getting back to your perambulations, we peep into times when some things were de rigeur to write, if you wrote. At other times, we find manners were different and so were mores. We make the mistake of comparing these elements with those of our own time.
Diaries of ordinary folk who could write, were the closest thing to a blog, but yet they were not and are not, even today. The reason being that they were not meant for widespread consumption, certainly not instantly, globally, (as today) and not,I would suggest, in most cases, in the writer's lifetime.
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Thanks Nicole, you are encouraging. I was going to ask you what would encourage you to write more on your blog, but this morning I see that you have indeed published another post. See you over there.
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Kathleen, thanks, I don't suppose anything I could say would encourage you to start a blog yourself?
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Charles, I send condolences. But what a find! How public do you think you can make her notes?
You ask a pertinent question, as to how much we reveal ourselves in these writings. I'm often conscious of hiding parts of myself. Any autobiographical activity is more about concealment than revelation, I'm sure. Nevertheless, we are not entirely in control of what we conceal and what we reveal.
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ZACL, you make some very important distinctions, and make me realize how many different types of journal and diary there are. I deliberately have not kept a diary of tasks and appointments since 1993 at the height of the time management/Filofax era. I decided that writing things down was an invitation to forget them. I refused to be managed by lists. I have missed a few appointments over the years, it's true, but they were ones I subconsciously wanted to miss.
This business of rules governing what one writes in blogs is partly why I don't write posts as often as I'd like, because the rules which guide me are so restrictive and narrow! Comments are so much more relaxed!
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