Shut up, your bared souls are boring me.

Sunday, 15 September 1996  1:37pm

In on a Sunday Sis, all by myself.  Just downed a vegetable roll from the health food shop over the road.  You can tell it’s a health food shop ‘coz of the overpriced row of vitamins down the back.  They also hand-write all the price tags to give it a “homey” feel.

Friday drinks was a bit dull.  I really didn’t intend to stay very long.  I got home about 10:30, which isn’t that late I suppose, but I wanted to be home by seven.  I feel a bit claustrophobic at drinks these days, too much sex-talk, it gets a bit boring.  Then it got all personal, and I was stuck in a triumvirate of very sensitive girl-talkers which I normally find fascinating, but on this particular Friday night, just left me cold.  I wanted to go and talk to the boys, but I thought it might seem rude, seeing as how they were all baring their souls.  You know how sometimes you get trapped in conversations like that?  It’s so personal, that you wonder if you should really be hearing all this, but then you don’t want to insult them by leaving and implying “Your bared souls are boring me.”  What to do, eh?  So I sat and listened, nodding now and then, occasionally offering a comment or two, but they were always talked over.  Not that I minded really.  I tried a few different roles: the token boy point-of-view; the SNAG angle; the Gee-I’m-only-a-boy-but-I’m-sure-keen-to-learn-all-this-girl-stuff line.  None of them were particularly effective.  With hindsight, I really should have left earlier.  Next time that happens I’m gonna revive one of my old lines – “are you really sure you want to tell me all this?” delivered with a slightly cocked head and raised eyebrows.  I don’t know why I stopped using that one actually.  It’s rather effective from memory.

One of the girl-talkers was interesting though.  She’s so together.  Really mature and stable, a positive approach to things, doesn’t internalize other people’s problems (eg: “That person doesn’t like me. That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me, or with them, but there is a problem in the interaction between us.”  I’m paraphrasing here. She says it much less daggy).  So I resolved to be more mature, rounded, less neurotic.  I really meant it too.  I believed it all the way home and yesterday morning.  As I sit her now, I’m neither here nor there, but the more I think of it, the more attractive it sounds.  She seems so serene.  And after all, I do have a placid mother-fucking face after all.  Ahh fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.  I’m afraid of becoming dull in the process.  And there’s an additional problem.  There’s another person at work who uses a similar line.  They once said that they know they’re different (read: annoying), but why should they change to suit other people?  The two lines of argument are similar, not the same, but there’s a danger of obstinacy masquerading as self-acceptance.  Nothing is ever simple, is it?

I’m reading this Anthony Burgess compilation of four novels at the moment called The Complete Enderby.  It’s great – really funny, well written.  He’s the guy who wrote A Clockwork Orange.  I’ve read another collection of his called The Malayan Trilogy which was pretty smashing as well.  I think they were his first books actually.  And later on I’m gonna go buy the new Orbital CD, In Sides.  I haven’t bought a CD for ages.  That one you sent me is the first new one I think I’ve had in probably four or five months.  Time for another shopping spree me thinks. Yes, I’m going to shop well ahead for Christmas this year.

J

 

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