The best conversations on the planet happen between yourself, and yourself. We never (rarely) share them - we withhold much because of potential hurt - but u gotta admit, we know ourselves THE best.
I was staring across the bed the other night, and I noticed there wasn’t anyone there. Not even Figaro, my cross-eyed tabby who runs into walls and like the Eveready Bunny, keeps going, and going.
So I’m thinking, like who critiques this shit that I say? But we, no matter wit’ another or not wit’ another, spend soooooooooooo many hours in life conversing singularly.
Smokin’ a cig before work, the daily routine. Folks hoppin’ outta their cars… The brain goes to work…”why in the fuck (sorry) is that guy carrying a briefcase?… he’s paid minuscule, he doesn’t get paid for taking work home…wtf is in his briefcase?” Former Postal worker?
“Geez, that married chicky usedta wear her hair in a rubber band a minimum of 4 outta 5 days a week.. Since they hired that hot dude (who happens to be black, built like brick shithouse) she’s let her hair down for like 22 days in a row. Whatsup with that and doesn’t her hubby notice?”
“Here comes Lizzy Lesbo… the old raisin that’s from the mimeograph (sp?) days… Her geriatric ‘counterpart’ drops her off same time, every day.. she’s somehow grandfathered in to always have a job, but her primary role is to walk around a greet employees, wear the carpet out... And to stick that nose (ewww) in everyone’s bidness. Why DO we keep her?”
“Here comes THAT guy. Bastard is married, yet, every time there’s a convention he flies to on behalf of the company, he’s suddenly ‘single’ and a major, major horndog. And it’s like he thinks we don’t know that crap.” Aretha would have a hard time singing “R-e-s-p-e-c-t.”
And then there are the positive ones… “I just love her… she’s the nicest lady I’ve ever met… She’s real religious, and I hope God knows what a good, good person she is.”
“GD I wish she wasn’t married. Every time I stare at her, I envision ‘huh-uh, no clothing.” And, dream away to a different life, different planet, different (or same) era… and we were ‘perfect’ together.”
Misty (former co-worker who occasionally stops by) is sitting there trying to put a name with a paragraph ain’tya?
Guidance, we “so I said to myself” folks need guidance. Two sides to every board. Two schools of thought. We ain’t got that. Our brain talks, we have no one to counter… no one to say “you friggin’ idiot… that’s lame”… “do you realize what you just said, were thinking? Step back away from it all and takea look.. See? You’re messed up.” But we don’t have that privy.
We is what we is. We think what we think. Our brain is in CONSTANT conversation. “That’ll be $4.07 sir for your Sausage Biscuit, two hash browns, and small coffee.” It will really fuck him up if I give him $5.02 won’t it?” We surmise. We predict. We’re usually correct.
We answer the phone at work. No idea what the person we’re talking to looks like… yet we surmise… we “picture them:”… it sways how we answer… thoughts go thru our brain like “I wonder if I moved to Jacksonville, FL tomorrow, would she marry me, and if we had kids (don’t be alarmed, I’m ‘fixed’) would they be as pretty as I picture?”
We have our opines about friends. If everything that goes thru our brain was somehow transmitted to them, we wouldn’t have them as friends very long. Family. Sometimes they just flat piss you off - but - again, the smile wipes out what the brain is’a thinking, and they’ll never know.
Ourselves. We talk to ourselves ABOUT ourselves. We hate us, we love us, we don’t understand us, we try to persuade ourselves, we rationalize on our own behalf. We walk up to the “Happy Birthday” spread at work, see all the ‘good shit’, tell ourselves “I know you’re in the “Biggest Loser” contest, but no one is looking, and them chocolate chip cookies look divine - dig in, one ain’t gonna hurt.”
The internet. We read a personal email that really pisses us off, yet, after our blood boils, we email back with “ha ha”. We wait and wait on a return email, IM, whatever, and in the meantime we think “to hell with that biotch, I’m sure she wasn’t Goldielocks right for me anyways.”
Conversing without conversing to another is “fer sure” an interesting topic. It’s my bet, as u sumbitches read these stupid blogs, u’re mind wanders and thinks about Victor. PLEASE, I don’t wanna know your thoughts - it’s safe just that I know “thoughts happen.” Some, all you have to go by is four stupid pictures on MySpace. You have no idea how fast I can motivate this wheelchair. (jk)…
In closing, we are our best friend - I don’t give a shit WHO you label as that. We are. It’s a must we love ourselves. We can surely love someone ALMOST as much as ourself, but not quite.
Thus, goodnight Victurd, I love you. Love, Victurd.
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