I make no claim that my blogs are anything other than my public declamations of my rather desultory life. The temporary footprints on the sandy beach on which I walk today
The reader of course does not have to read. Alack I think the writer often feels compelled to write.
As I read back through my now extensive history of journaling, and latterly blogging, I am often amazed (and thankful) at how much I have been able to debrief.
If some readers are bemused, so be it. If they are helped, then, good; if they are illuminated even better. But I blog for no one other than myself. Perhaps a little self-indulgent, or expressionistic. All the better I suspect for being so frank about it.
The reader, as I say, does not have to read.