I feel so callous.
It finally happened. I know something like this was bound to happen, sooner or later, but I finally took that big step.
I read all the mail that I get. Doesn’t go through a filter or a peon, no human selects what items cross my desk. I get it all.
I get pleas for free readings, or free advice, or nice notes that also include a plea for something extra, some bit of information not included on the website.
But I finally got one, asking for some free information, and instead of answering, like I usually do, I just tossed it. Actually, I read it twice, in full, and while it was a very nice note, there’s just not a lot I could do by way of answer, not something I could do for free.
The second part of the callous feeling is the straight up nice notes. I get a few of them each week, but I got to a point where I’m not even answering them. I used to consider it my duty to reply with a sincere “thank you” of some kind. However, my good nature has been much abused as of late, pulling a few extra hours for a friend in the afternoon has drastically cut down on my free time, and I have obligations. Answering mail, whether it’s nice mail or not, if there’s no money attached to it, then it’s not worth the effort.
My casual statistical analysis indicates that less 1% of the mail I answer actually generates revenue.
I found several people who practice astrology, that is, they are in the business of selling personal consultation, casting charts and doing interpretations, regularly use my site as source material. Apparently, it’s fresh and different for them, a slightly askew look at the same old material from a fresh perspective. That’s nice. Thanks for the compliment. I don’t need to remind any real authors about copyright.
I suppose I should feel honored, “The astrologers’ astrologer.” Somehow, though, that doesn’t pay the bills. Like, pay for the server and the internet connection to keep all of thus up and available.
Bubba’s www.astrowhore.org is finally up a new and hopefully more reliable server. It took several hours of work, mostly spent with him acting bored on the couch while I twiddled bits and bytes to make the shift. As he was leaving, that old moon was visible, Saturn and Mercury floating alongside it in the night’s sky, glittering faintly off the water’s dimpled surface.
