Finding this now to be essentially a dead ender for anything but the oddest of googling, it is again easy to hide in plain site as I once did ten or so years ago, still retaining the delicious thrill of airing my dirty laundry in front of potenetial millions. This is the cheap, tawdry exhibitionist thrill of stripping in front of the hi-rise window. My wife, a beatiful young girl living then in Midtown, used to parade her lovely naked form in front of her windows at all hours of the day and night. When a wiser friend hipped her to the situation, she hung some drapes. WE MISS YOU was posted in window of the offices across the street, an earnest and naive pleading to get her to regain her innocence.
I have much to post here, surely, but as usual I am too drunk to type it in. Besides, the flavor of personal despair that drives me here is already well-acquitted throughout my voluinous archive, let alone the site which I have hosted for the past seven or so years. Well-known are these moods, and all-too blogged by many more eloquent, caring and rigorous than myself. I find that, like so many, I have little to say in this secret/public venue and am feeling less apt to say what I will, lest it either betray me or sap my will from more private and rewarding ventures (such as a pen-and-ink journal).
So tell me, if you have a moment, if anyone reads this at all. Actually, if you do read it, comment and I will personally send an autographed photo and five US dollars to the first person who posts. A fin, a pic and a refresh of perhaps my faith in humanity!
Look to the trolls who google five bucks for 1st comment!