Who's Reading This Site: Unscientific Survey Results

A breakdown of what today's 71 visitors were looking for when they clicked to my site, or how they were referred here (numbers reflect # of searchers for each; total might not add up). According to the discouraging results, I might as well stop writing and just post random dirty or fetish-oriented words up here (and"McSweeney's"). Consider this entry a start.

I had no idea my site was such a portal for the hairy-leg curious:

Benbrown.com: 15
My legs are hairy/hairy legs: 6
McSweeney�s: 4
Fuck you bitch: 3
Mardi Gras: 2
Old Brother sewing machine: 2
Topless/Topless flashing free: 2
The rest of these are just one-searcher items:
12 year old fuck stories
a letter to explain the death of an american soldier
"Arthur Kent" poem scud
Bomb, bomb baby
Bookmarks
Burlesque not bombs
Cars for Sale
Climbers accident on Spanish news
college students spoiled brats
email addresses of rich men in Saudi Arabia
Fox news women legs
Fuck
hairy men
Henry Cisneros
He�s Scared, She�s Scared
Lauri Apple
Lil� Kim nude
Little boy fuck
Lyrics to the Invasion
Paul Colella
phallic
Pittsburgh hipster
Political spectrum meanings
See me fuck
Sex stories free aunt
Spam poem
Stop the War
Women bums

And now for something completely different ...

Send Me Back to Ennui High.

I feel like giving up today. Just not happy with my writing at all. My inspiration level is below sea-level right now, hovering between the Marianas Trench and the Floridian coast. I feel old and not-fun, not-alive. And that's depressing, because I'm not old or dead yet.

Part of the problem is that I'm an isolationist, a life-long only child who doesn't understand people very well. Never did, really, but these days I'm having an even harder time. And that doesn't making writing easy, because I want to reach people and don't know how. I want to write uplifting stuff, the kind of stories that people love and don't forget. But I don't think my writing produces that effect at all. I can't even come up with a solid joke lately.

What can I possibly say to people that they don't know already? I just don't know. It seems so easy for some people to just figure out what's the right thing to say and write. Not for me.

In the midst of all this me-me-meism and blaseocrity, my readership has reached new heights. Can someone please explain that? A rhetorical question.

Now, this is not rhetorical: Can someone please give me a column or similar sort of gig to take away some of this anxiety I'm currently experiencing, that I will never make it as a writer (my coverage of city hall notwithstanding)? It would really make me feel better, you know. I used to write a column in Pittsburgh. It was the best time as a writer I've ever had, and it had readers.

�

Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse. � Lily Tomlin

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