Last night I went to two parties.
One was a birthday for one of my friends (where surprisingly I knew many more people than I thought I would know), and the second was a party where I only knew one person, and the rest were cross-dressers that were dancing around to things like the movie "RENT" and CHICAGO" and just as well doing Margaret Cho impressions.
It was all fun, it was new and exciting and everyone that I met was great.
There was one problem though. Something almost meager in size but creates an impeccable outcome.
It was the little black hole of thought, sucking away my thinking, and crushing it to death. keeping me unable to respond to anybody in any way. Like my brain had been coated in a sort of ancient painted crust, or mummified.
As I stood just outside the circles of blather (my words being smashed between the jaws of my social distress), I discovered that I still had my default words. The words you use when you don’t know what else to say. I think to myself that with a little spice of enthusiasm I could utilize those words to be involved in a conversation!
But how should I begin?
And how should I then presume?
"Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets and watched the smoke that rises from pipes of lonely men in short sleeves leaning out of windows?
I should have been a pair of ragged claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas."
My enthusiastic dullness did not work so well. Some part of me had realized that at some point I must carry on a conversation.
The night was wasted in a learning experience.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Book smarts aren't the only smarts that count. Seems to me, your heart creatively soars great heights and bottomless depths when trying to achieve social induction.
You're heroes?
Robert Frost, e.e. cummings, buddha and Dylan.
I see you more as an awkward poet than a socialite-jock.
Ugh, Damn my dyslexic usage of 'you're'
and.. uh, yes. I'm rereading the comment I made.
*points over your (ha) shoulder* What in the world could THAT be?!!
You carry on a conversation very well whenever you talk about the things you really like or even -- dare I say it? -- love. Rick is right about your being a poet, but wrong to describe you as "awkward." When you're really "on," which is most of the time, you write poetry as good as anything I've read in a very long time. But you know that.
Post a Comment