What the fuck did I do?

Does it matter if no one reads?  If a blog is not read does it exist (like the tree in the woods that no one hears fall)?  Or does it exist for me and that's all that matters?

You know that I know that this is rhetorical and therefore by getting no answer to these questions I will understand that you, dear reader (note the singular because I'm sure you're not plural), are of an intelligent enough disposition to refrain from commentary when the answers are so obvious.

"I see a man without a problem
I see a country always starved,
I hear the music of a heartbeat,
I walk, and people turn and laugh.

Is it in my head
Is it in my head
Is in my head here at the start?
Is it in my head
Is it in my head
Is it in my head, or in my heart?

I pick up phones and hear my history.
I dream of all the calls I miss.
I try to number those who love me,
And find exactly what the trouble is.

Is it in my head [etc.]

I feel I'm being followed,
My head is empty
Yet every word I say turns out a sentence.
Make love to a stranger
Just asking for directions
Turn from being help to being questions.

I see a man without a problem. "

When I started humming it I didn't realise how apt it was, but now the words stare back at me.  Those last three lines about making love to a stranger asking for directions. Do I turn from being help to being questions or does the stranger turn from being help to being questions?  The former makes me worry for the burden I impose, the latter makes me worry about the burden of deceit I must carry.  But sod all that, it's a beautiful song from The Who's finest hour (I love Quadrophenia, takes me back to my teenage years, not that I was a mod beating up rockers on Brighton Beach, but I have always hankered for a Vespa).   So thank you PiP for taking me to that Quadrophonic place today!