Splink and I were talking the other day about how I need to attend AA type meetings for online diarists.

I have a few online diaries.

I also have a few email addresses, a few names on AIM, a few message boards and chats I drop in on.

The addiction isn't the diary. It's not even the words, some days I have to fight the words like dogs.

It's that tick tick tick. The keys under my fingers.

That's why I was such a good cashier before everything got barcoded.

It's such a satisfying little sound.

Tick, tick, tick.

Such a lovely little feeling.

I don't know why people who don't type correctly resist learning. If you're hunting and pecking you can't really go that quickly and you can't get the full on satisfaction that comes from that rapid fire ticking underneath your fignertips.

And the finality of the clack that marks the enter key.

Clack. Clack. Double space. End of thought.

If I could hit the enter key when I spoke I bet I'd ramble less.

That can't be true. If that were true I'd ramble less in here and look where all that clack clack has gotten us.

The last time I counted (which for the record was in the middle of the day on monday) I had 469 entries in this diary.

I have no idea how many are in the locked diary, and the other, newer diary is brand new so there are maybe only 6 over there.

Still, all told, that's alot of clack clack tick tick tap tap ramble ramble.

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