You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here

"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it"
-Omar Khayyam

 

Going back through old entries from my beginning in 2003, I found the anonymous note above.  Felt appropriate given this is the last call for OD y’all.  Everything else has been downloaded and gone, leaving this last public entry till the sand runs out.

I’ve met so many wonderful people here, and lost most as the interest faded away, but the few who remain are some of the dearest friends I’ve ever had.  One door closes and another opens I suppose though my own interest in chronicling my life has sadly diminished, so I understand all those who vanished over the decade and more.  

Truth be told, it hurts to know this won’t simply exist forever in some form, this site.  Locked in some internet amber as a frozen section of my life before being married, before understanding the things I do now, when my ignorant ass would lament things to no end, and celebrate every victory as though it were the world.  Still, I don’t miss that guy because he was really lonely and confused and lost most of the time with far too much navel gazing instead of doing something to change his fate. 

I met one of the best friends I’ve ever had here and a woman that is now my wife.  So thank you Open Diary for bringing the joy and love into my life that I have.  I can’t imagine where I would be otherwise and truly grateful I don’t have to.

Never take any of this for granted.  Take what you can from this place before it vanishes into the electron ether, gone but never forgotten.  Remember the entries and how they felt, both in reading the wonderful words, the heartfelt notes, and in the writing of the soul, especially in those dark midnight hours.  Be stronger and love harder, know all of this is not all of you, but was the place you always could be everything you authentically were, who you really were when all the bullshit was shed and ripped away.

The words mattered and we were amongst kindred souls that understood why.  The words absolutely mattered. 

Now realize them as tribute, both to this place and to those we’ve lost both metaphorically and literally, including now and ever our friend, Open Diary.

 

To paraphrase Harrow’s Stet Fortuna Domus (and with profuse apologies):

 

 Pray, charge up your glasses ladies and gentlemen,

And drink to Open Diary’s honor,

May fortune still attend this harrowing hill

And glory rest upon her!

The world outside is wondrous wide,

But here the world is narrow, fast expiry,

One magic thrall unites us all. –

The name and fame of our Open Diary

 

So long, farewell, bless and keep you,

and goodbye. 

For the last time,

Keeper of the Dead

Ryan