It is HOT in San Francisco lately. I've had a few reasons to drive into the City earlier than usual this week -- a dental crown and a board meeting -- and I'll admit my head turned a number of times. Those who never visit here don't know it, but this is a city filled with beautiful women. (For those who bend that way, it is also a city filled with beautiful men.)
Whatever. So many tiny shorts, tank tops, and light cotton dresses! So many women in great shape, shaking their long hair in the night breezes, talking happily with their companions in person or on their cell phones.
My windows are open, the fans are on, the kids are enjoying Pizza Friday Night at Dad's and I'm enjoying a baseball game on TV plus this relaxation they call blogging. Writing for me is what exercise or play is for others. There are so many words, so many stories waiting to pour out of my tortured mind, that posting to 3 or 4 blogs a day, even while holding down a full-time job, barely burns off my excess, much like the flames above a natural gas well.
I don't know that anyone appreciates this kind of writing. As I've often said here, writers are those who have to write. I have to write. If not, my mind becomes -- how can I explain this -- horny. It becomes frustrated, pent-up, tense, needing a release.
I hope for some my words are sweet-tasting, as they pour out of me. I always write not only for me but for you, my precious readers. This blog is not, so far as I know, any kind of success. I can no longer afford Statcounter, so I don't know how many people visit this space. I've stopped checking Google AdSense, since that obviously is a scam for a small-timer like me.
That leaves a rather intimate feeling -- just you and me. Thank you for showing up!
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