i was listening to a podcast the other day talking about declaring “email bankruptcy” – the notion of wiping the email slate clean and starting fresh, with no unanswered messages, no archived folders.

i’ve had my longest email account for about 6 years now, and while most of my stuff is organised by folder, i rarely delete these days. given almost limitless storage space, there’s really no need. out of curiousity, i had a look to see how many emails i have currently saved…

… and it turns out, nearly 10,000. that’s even *after* the cathartic purge of 2003, when, after an emotionally disastrous summer, a failed relationship came to an abrupt and bizarre end (he accused me of being manipulative, selfish and deceitful in one email, then told me he loved me 24 hours later in the next) and i just slashed-and-burned everything in my inbox.

i’d find that nearly impossible to do today. in a time where the handwritten word is nearly extinct, emails are the emotional equivalent of the pen pal/loveletter/diary. as imperfect as the medium may be, the thoughtful, well-composed email is no less imbued with depth of feeling. some of the most romantic things i’ve ever written or received have been on email. i’ve carried on passionate political debate, received birth announcements, and developed friendships via email.

and i do re-read them, some more than others. like a keepsake box, my emails form part of my memories, my history. not just the ones received, but the ones i’ve sent as well.

intellectually, i know they’re nothing more than series of binary strings saved somewhere in the ether on an anonymous server – expressions of love and heartache reduced to cold mathmatics. but they’re *my* strings, and they’re the only proof i have these days of what once was, previous lives lived and otherwise lost to memory. i’m not ready to delete.

elvis costello – every day i write the book

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