Every so often, I put out an embarrassing plea for comments. I'm an insecure little submissive, desperate for approval. Actually, to hell with approval, I'd be content with regular signs of life.
One of my few dependable commenters has been Z. She not only comments, but leaves behind snippets of praise that make me blush. Z was one of my early inspirations to become a blogger myself. Good writing turns me on almost as much as threats of a caning, and Z can take responsibility for some of my literary orgasms. My brain is still too befogged by progesterone to be able to pin down what it is about her writing that I like so much, so you'll just have to check her out for yourself at The Naked Truth.
Now here is how this connects to the loud silence of most of my readers.
Z has somehow gotten herself into a major financial fix. Being horribly in debt myself at the moment, due to 2 years of on-and-off unemployment, I can fully sympathize with her plight. A friend has posted a little donation box on Z's website, and I am hoping that some of you might be moved to drop in anything you can spare. Devalued though the US dollar may be, every buck or two helps. Me, I've done my bit, which is rather a big deal for me since almost the only one receiving freely-given cash from me during my period of penury has been Barack Obama.
And the connection to this blog? Z's financial picture is such that she'll have to cut back on her Internetworking. So no more of her daily comments here for a while. Which will make the absence of even little hand waves from the rest of you that much more obvious.
Consider any donation you can make to be a guilt tax on your silence. Or think of it as just a small payback to the people who regularly reveal so much more than you will find in the occasional pictures of bare nipples, moist cunts, and proffered butts. Scattered across the blogosphere are the intimacies of our souls, complete with scars and running sores.
Help for Z will be a small thank you to everyone you have ever read.