I write to you from a hammock nestled between two deciduous trees in the backwoods of Princeton.
I actually call you my journal, but drama loving, Pez Dispenser Hilton followers jump on words like "diary." Yes journal, I also like it when my gossip queens tune in. It's good for PR, because, well, they gossip.
The wonders of the world keep me curious. How Little Richard rose to fame. What exists in plain sight that our eyes do not have the capacity to see. Who reads these off the wall entries...
Google tells me there is a small army of readers who jump in for a view each week. Who are they? At what capacity do I know them? Are they busy working class folks that tune in because they want more? Or are they housewives who are tanning on the beach reading everything posted on Facebook?
It doesn't matter one way or the other I suppose. A fraction of my day is spent wondering though.
If I knew who was looking when I am not around, would it change the composition of these entries or the style of delivery? Would the content shift to fit the audience. Probably not, although the subconscious is powerful.
All things are revealed in due time.
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