4 words

just returned from a weekend in Connecticut, a guest of my friend W at this 18th century farmhouse, amongst 9 other people. i don’t know why it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to find my voice. i can say that everyone speaks more than i do, but i always think they have more to say. and since I am trying to follow 5 simultaneous conversations occurring around me… something beyond my cognitive abilities… each conversation gets mushed together. the words have no spaces, no silences around them. they fly by too quickly for me follow. I get lost. and eventually i am somewhere else. there, but somewhere else.

this keeps happening more and more. and i wish it could not bother me. as I was leaving, W told me, “I don’t think I heard you utter more than 4 words last night.” i told W that actually i had uttered hundreds of thousands of words, a flurry, a flood of words, non-stop chatter. I just did not bother to speak any of them.

but this shyness thing… it’s really turning out to this huge inconvenience in my life. must figure out a new way to deal with it.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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