Since my restart with Sort 322, which was calculated to drum up book sales, I have had a good time writing columns as Dear Jon. We are now two years further along, and I need a vacation.
Whether my vacation turns into a sabbatical, or into a permanent departure, will depend on you. If you miss me, let me know. The more clamor I get, the sooner I will return. The more indifference, well....
Some advice for you and for me: We all have to be aware of our goals so we know where to focus. I took a shot with the book, and then I took another shot by asking for YOUR response on whether I should publish a follow-up. You will not that no follow-up is forthcoming. I frankly anticipate the same response to this appeal--silence. And if that is the case, then I'll meet you next in the great Cyber Kingdom in the sky.
In the past two years my articles have tended to be less about sex and more about politics. They have also been less mean. Maybe I need to talk to my doctor about....
Never mind. That's confidential. And no, I don't have my reflection in windows talking back to me. I am perfectly well aware that the voices I hear are all in my head. But the reader mail has been next to nil this time around. This time I had said that my schtick did not depend so much on it. That was because, hoping to drum up book sales, I knew I would be writing anyway. That is all so two years ago, and I'm frankly tired of talking to myself, or to the voices in my head.
I'm not bitter. Just facing facts. And SCREAMING FOR ATTENTION. But not bitter. Not really. Not like "I'm so bitter I'm losing sleep over it." I'm losing sleep over things a LOT more important than Dear Jon.
So anyway, see you next time. If there is a next time. Let me know.