The Art Monster at the End of This Book

<p>Ifirst read Anais Nin when I was eighteen years old. It was 2000, and I had just started blogging, though no-one called it that back then &mdash; I kept a public &ldquo;diary,&rdquo; on a LiveJournal knockoff called&nbsp;<a href="http://opendiary.com/" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" target="_blank">OpenDiary.com</a>, and had to learn hex codes and basic HTML to make it look the way I wanted, which was (I assure you) very ugly.</p> <p>Anyway: I wanted my diary to be riveting for all five of my followers, so when I found a book about famous diaries in the dollar bin of a used bookstore, I picked it up. That book was no great shakes, and I can no longer recall its author or title, but somewhere &mdash; as an example of a particularly&nbsp;<em>bad</em>&nbsp;diary, in fact &mdash; the author reviewed the fourth volume of Nin&rsquo;s seven-volume series<em>&nbsp;The Diary of Anais Nin.</em>&nbsp;The review included a capsule biography (underground writer, became a feminist icon in the &rsquo;70s, knew a lot of artists, dreamy and &ldquo;poetic&rdquo; and self-absorbed to a fault) which sparked my interest. I wanted to become an interesting person. Nin already was one, and she seemed to share my ideas about what an interesting person should be.</p> <p><a href="https://judedoyle.medium.com/the-art-monster-at-the-end-of-this-book-a3dfbd8fc3a8"><strong>Click Here</strong></a></p>
Tags: Monster