Two hundred and thirty questions,

Two hundred and thirty questions, all answered, ah, what a feeling! It's a strange environment that these questions have created around me. One in which I feel special (because who else gets to have it appear that there are 230 things that others are curious enough about to ask you, even though some of them are obviously just there so they can hear and see their own voice). One in which I feel weary (because how else would one feel when constantly forced to be introspective, witty, truthful, and interesting at the same time--especially at a rate of 80 questions a day and only a couple hours a day to answer them). One feels a little fearful (because he cannot tell when the readers will begin lashing out at him and telling him that he is a bad answerer of questions and that he is not interesting enough to question, anymore! What could bring more of a sense of defeat, after slowly gaining readers for over a year, after so carefully planning each entry to be meaningful to himself and yet also somewhat interesting to read, than to finally gush everything out in one long stream of intimate details and find that the only interesting thing about him up until this point was his commitment to mystery, missing details, and vagueries). One feels one-upped by himself (because there is no way to gracefully end this, and he's already played the tossing out boring projects bit and does not have enough cash in the bank to do that again). One feels guilty (because now he is spending even less time working on the project that was making him feel guilty for not spending enough time working on the project that he doesn't have enough money to work on as he wishes).

Will you talk to me? All of these questions, which I answer, beg for second, third questions. They are my purest articulation of the question, "Are you there yet?" And you are invited to say no. People say no. What do you want me to do! I am a fumbling and ugly Peter Keating groveling for a soul with a tail. Or do you not see that.

Is there one person out there willing to pay for one year of supporting me and my wife so that we can take the year off and work on projects that I know the world will be pleased with. Can I want this year (or two, possibly?) so badly without eventually getting it! If I scream loud enough, will you give me my way?