Now that I'm writing the final entry of this diary I feel the urge to do some kind of retrospective of Aries Moon, or a summary of what I've learned about myself in six years. I want to tell you what it's meant to me to be a web diarist, or how much I value the numerous friends I made as a result of writing online. But to be honest, I don't think it's necessary. I've said those things all along. The heart and soul of this diary is in plain sight. What remains in the archives does not materially differ from the original postings, though I certainly went back from time to time and cleaned up broken HTML, dead links, grammar and spelling errors.
I've also explained the why and the how elsewhere many times, for I've had the honor to be a pioneer of sorts in the small section of cyberspace we call online diaries, and there have been reviews and interviews in both print and electronic media. My diary is a microcosm of the first bloom and glorious heyday of the web journal, from a single webring of diaries to a multiplicity of variations on the theme of community, eventually falling into the shadow of the shiny new technology of weblogging that freed people from the need to understand HTML in order to express themselves online. There's a healthy crossbreeding between journals and weblogs now, and the proliferation of personal essayists and pundits reinvent the wheel every day. It's been fascinating to be along for the ride and give it the occasional push.
Here in my journal I've written down my life for others to read and ponder. My essays and confidentials are a lens through which a person may view the world the way I saw it. When I was young I wanted to leave behind a diary for my grandchildren to read, to leave my mark in text. I have no children, and no grandchildren; I stopped keeping a print journal decades ago; nonetheless I have contrived to leave something of myself for future generations.
I hope you enjoyed the journey. Thank you for reading Aries Moon.