Beach Voyeur Sex Stories

I was peering into my google analytics this weekend to see if anyone actually reads my refrigerator art (aka Not So Shaggy Dog Stories) and was tickled to see that last week we had over 50 “unique” visitors to our blog. Small wonder my blog buddies are unique, I’ve been called various derivations of the word (strange, weird, different, odd, bizarre) myself for almost 50 years! Oh, and just in case you were wondering, Google doesn’t tell me who you are, what you were wearing, or what you were doing with your hands when you were reading my rants. So your anonymity is safe.

What it does report is by and large how folks find my blog. In particular what search terms were popular last week that brought visitors to my site.   Apparently one of my unique guests found my dharma chronicles by searching for “beach voyeur sex stories.” I had to think back on that one for a bit. Really? Did I write about that time I was 17 on the beaches of Jamaica?

I did my own search and could not find any CoolKarma sexcapades among the 1,430,000 page links suggested. There is simply no sex stories on the beach in my blog. Well until today. Feeling compelled to validate my google analytics report, I am now officially creating a thread whereby people interested in beach voyeur sex stories can find my blog.

Truth is, most folks stumble upon my mental noise because they have typed in phrases like “my purple wheelchair”, or dharma humor and even one dark sole who was looking for stories of pain and suffering. Ouch! I should seriously consider more sex stories on the beach. It sounds far more entertaining or at least good fodder for a far more interesting life. But alas, the devil winds, me and my zafu and the infamous horned tomato worm will have to suffice for headline news in the adventures of my not so shaggy dog tales. At least until we make our next move to the beach.

I have been listening to Bo Burnham’s new video Words, Words, Words, this week more than a middle aged woman should admit to. And I must say there is something about the power of the word that makes me stand back in awe. How we craft our search terms, what we bring to the dinner table conversation, when we seek prayer and why we find the sound of our own name so alluring. Sometimes we are aware of how our words will land and then other times we are completely oblivious on how our statement will be interrpreted. (i.e. It took me a while before I figured out why my video toon blog on Customer Service — Happy Ending, was getting so many YouTube hits.)

I suppose we are all voyeurs within our own story and how we define the moment is perhaps more powerful than any search engine could possibly capture.