This transmission is coming to you from Savannah, Georgia, where the view from Mike's window looks quite disturbingly like Green Bay Road in Evanston. There's a little tiger-gray kitten in my lap who thinks that she can type this blog better than I can; I will leave vhe gr hy h jmmmmmm bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbhnrrrrkm,k dddddddddddd5vmko9lui666o88888888888888888888888888888
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99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999iou5621jklnm 8uui============== her prose in, so you can see what a terrific writer she is. I guess that effort tired her out, because she's lost interest.
I indulged in a love of mine the other night, while I was still in Evanston: sitting in the back of a car, late at night, nearly asleep and concentrating on the neon scenery while ignoring banal chit-chat. The thing I love best about banal chit-chat is ignoring it. Sometimes I prefer it as a background to silence. They were talking about their children and how naughty they weren't. I had nothing to offer. I am getting away with this only lately because people excuse my rudeness for culture shock. Before I went to Indonesia, my rudeness was just rudeness, and I was that person that made people uncomfortable, because I didn't like to talk to 100 adults in a row about what I was going to do with my life, and laugh about how, ha ha, my anthropology degree will qualify me for, ha ha, absolutely nothing. I didn't like to talk about their kids and how they were way naughtier at college than I was, or, conversely, how they came out of it with a triple doctorate in the-richest-possible-sort-of medicine. But now, people just nod uncomfortably in awe and think: she just came back from a third-world country. She must have seen all sorts of... things. She's just got to get used to the country again.
What they do not realize is that I will never get used to the country again. I wasn't used to it when I had never left it. I will always rather read neon sighs and shadows in bushes than listen to people ask me about things that make me slightly nauseous to repeat.
Monday, March 19, 2007
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1 comment:
from someone who also finds smalltalk mind-numbing, i'm glad i'm not the only one.
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