Dear Literate Person,
You didn't become literate for me, I realize, so I extend a thousand thanks to you for humoring me with your stealth brand of readership, which I still find so queer. Even though you are a mute and forgiving happy face in my, perhaps, overly-generous imagination, I, shamefaced and unforgivable, do experience a worthy lot of guilt when I leave you with a blog that hasn't been updated in over a week. Starved but loyal soul, you've been recycling these mediocre stubs of prose, sometimes reading dangerous and unsavory possibilities into my often heedless pile of words, words, words. I give credit to you, lively thinker, since most people don't even bother, but that's because they sense I am wasting their time--and they would be right. My time, my life, after all, is much too valuable to waste on writing.