Odd how alone we can think we are.

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Oh, to some degree, I don't mind.  Most people aren't used to it.  Most people can't handle it.  For the most part, I am good with our without people.  I have seen some try to use loneliness as a tool.  I do talk a good deal, with visitors.  So it must seem as if I am lonely.  Really, I just need to process what I can through real feedback when I get the chance.  It's not quite like going to the grocery store.  Perhaps more like a casual visit to a hardware store, when I need nothing in particular?  Yeah.  There is always a gadget or tool or material I could buy, or at least review.  With people, it is an idea I could offer for review, preview, response, etc.

I write here, often enough.  And, really, I thought I was quite alone.  A journal blog, of sorts.  Along with... a few other uses.  Google says only a few stop by, perhaps 1.2k per month.  And, for a very long time, I thought that was true.  Now I know it not to be.  There are several ways to get around google's counter.  How accurate that is even without that is difficult to know.  We are not, exactly, ideological friends.  The only reason I still write is because they found that if they censor my kind, they end up with their kind, which ends up being reductive to a point of uselessness.  They have no choice.  They could dump me, or another, or another, or many, but in the end they would end up with a non-functioning model.  It's a factitious model as is.  But in the world of funny money it seems to work.

Truth came out some time ago.  I am much more widely read than I thought.  Locally, but even not so much.  Strange to be recognized though.  Not sure how people know, but I have been recognized in places which don't seem possible.  The further I go, the less often.  But even on my trip south, then around, there was a time or dozen where I was pretty sure I was... not known, recognized.  Then again, even back in the day, I have a familiar sort of face.  The difference, though, between looking like someone and being recognized is if I am recognized, I am not approached.  Just... watched.  If someone thinks they know me, usually they come up and ask.

It does give me the shivers.  I'm sure few have read all.  And there is much.  So... what, exactly, did they read.  Strangely, I can remember much of what is written here.  No, I don't read my old stuff, unless called to it.  And yet, once down, I can usually get my meaning later on.  Not that I always agree, minds can change, or variance in mood, or even what I just ate (or ate then) might affect things.  No accounting for emotional responses, either.  Terrified, in a way, when recognized.  I've seen bit tongues to simple curiosity on to an appreciative serious nod... seemingly approving.  Not that it matters, just, as I wrote, there is a lot here.  Along with the weird factor of being recognized but not being sure what for, there is some pride to be known.  Not a great pride, just a little pleasure that people bother to read.  Still...


More than I thought.  At first, I tried to deny, or tamp down the notion.  Paranoia is what it is.  After some things came to light, and I realized health issues weren't what I had been told for so long, I started testing, both close and far.  Sure enough.  When people know things I have written here, before being told, or even knowing me all that well... it shows.  One woman, who had watched the poo-pourri commercial here, almost spilled where she saw the thing, then seemed to remember she wasn't supposed to say.  Women are NOT good at keeping secrets, especially some secrets. 

Still, it would be nice to know.  Or... not.  People!!!  Ahhhh!!!

Meh, I'm a Bugs sort of monster.  Usually.  Or is it the other way around.  Yes, yes it is.  Both are correct, depending on the day.  So... what's up, Doc?