My site meter doesn't tell me everything (I have no idea who is actually reading this except for when people comment on the blog) but when people stumble across it during a Google search the meter tells me what terms they were searching for. Two searches stand out so far:
"Can my dad touch me"
Without knowing the context, I have no idea exactly how horrified I should be by that.
"Critique of gospel dance"
I don't know why Google pulled my blog up for that, since I've never offered a critique of gospel dance; neither a general survey of the form nor a specific review of a performance. I'm not sure exactly what gospel dance would be like, but I'll try to check it out.
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If any of my readers out there are rooting for me on this transforming-my-apartment-back-into-a-livable-human-domicile thing, you'd have beamed with pride to see me last night, as I opted to scrub mold out of the toilet instead of lie in bed drinking wine and watching L'Avventura. I feel so noble.
I've also hit on a revolutionary new approach to sorting my comics which I intend to implement ASAP. The revolutionary approach is called "storing my comics the way everyone else who has a bunch of comics does it, with longboxes." Longboxes are designed to store comics, and I can get them at my comic shop. Why have I just let my comics litter the floor for so long? I suspect the answer brings us back to toilets, specifically the training one undergoes in relation to them.
P. S. If my use of the word "toilet" in this post runs up my Google-searchin' readership any, I'm deleting the blog.