Sometimes I just want to write or talk aimlessly. It makes me feel good to talk about pure nonsense. I don’t like when conversations have a direction. Conversations with a clear direction feel manufactured, fake, inorganic.
"Hey Matt, how about this weather, huh?"
"Oh yes, quite crazy. We should keep talking about it. You’re immersing me in a wealth of knowledge and why would I try to escape that? Thank you for your presence on this Earth. Tell me more about wind cycles please. Perhaps indulge me in the ways of the tides. Do you study oceanography? Who’s your favorite Greek god? Is it Poseidon?"
Conversations without a clear direction are fulfilling, enjoyable, beautiful. I would take talking to my Bulgarian neighbor, a 50+ year old single mother of 4 who lives in government-funded housing, any day.
"I move to America to live better life. My father, when I turn 11, he try to sell me to town butcher man for 7 sheep and half bag of clay. I take knife, I cut balls in half. Father, balls no more!"
"I cannot relate, Ms. Senior Bulgaria. But I love you. Will you marry me?"
I’d definitely take conversation with her over talking to the likes of, say, Jim from accounting. Fuck off, Jim. Yeah, we’re both white guys who love numbers. This conversation will be fun.
"Did you see the year-end reports? Our debt-to-equity ratio is B A N A N A S."
"You are an awful human, Jim. Pure, hot garbage. Your wife too. And your kids. I mean that from the bottom of my heart."
It’s funny how necessary things, like paying rent, can sometimes be a chore to talk about. On the other hand, you want to bullshit with me about cramming pizza down my gullet and watching Thundercats as a kid? Step right up. I’ve been waiting for you all my life, you beautiful son of a bitch.
People try to tie things together too much. At the start of this paragraph, I began to write “I guess what I’m trying to say is,” and then I thought, what the fuck AM I trying to say? Nothing. The answer is nothing. Per usual. But hopefully it was fun to read, and if it wasn’t, well, then why are you still reading this, you worthless imbecile? I hope you get your balls cut off by my Ms. Senior Bulgaria. And if you’re a girl, do you have balls? Penises? Chests? Faces? I’m not good with anatomy. Whatever you mystical creatures have, I hope Ms. Senior Bulgaria cuts them off too.