So I was looking through all the comments I've received on this blog, and have been trying to figure out why they've been so sparse over the past few months.

My conclusion is it's the poetry. But I'm not going to stop posting it. Except for the fact that someone could steal my lines and publish. Writing for an audience is like a band playing songs they think people want to hear. It usually works. But the true stuff, the knife in your intestine type that makes you squirm or puke or cry or squint isn't for the light-hearted and it isn't written to be a pleaser.

However, a writer likes feedback. Several times in my blogging career I have debated deletion. Sometimes I've found reassurance, sometimes not, but writing for the self, as profound as it is, is something I believe should be shared. If I had no stats page to pine over, secretly thanking the Canadians, Americans, Koreans, Russians etc for stumbling upon these sentences composed, I may have given up hope. And the fact that my hate-post on cellphone usage has been the number-one viewed can only be some kind of sign. That rambles on shared topics unsure can be appreciated, even when written in too many words.

I post to thank my viewers. Dedicated and not. Your stats encourage me, even when they fade. Your lack of comments can only mean you hate what I have to say. I like that.