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Did not get as much work done today as I wanted to. Did some further buffing and formatting of the film. Cooked a little. Sent e-mails. Tinkered with some RE articles. Failed to do sound work, grocery shop, sort through my clothes, do laundry, or get my car inspected.
I went to a barbecue at my friend Travis's - my regular lunch buddy in high school, member with me and C.Blacker of an unofficial poetry club back before at least C and I realized our poems were clever beyond simply amusing ourselves; given that they were about wordplay rather than love or angst, I at least thought they functioned solely as satire and not as poetry. Travis also is about to move.
I did not know anyone else at the party, although Ciro to everyone's surprise did (although he had not met Travis before). It occurred to me that one reason for my increasing social dysfunction is that my ability to make confident small talk has steadily diminished since college. In college, I was interesting. Now, in most situations, I'm worried that if I say anything it will seem like I'm trying to one-up people when all I'm trying to do is the normal "oh yes, I've had an experience similar to that." It just sounds pretentious because my life experiences . . . sound made up for dramatic impact.
1. Everybody else is talking about crazy times they had with early roommates, usually related to people leaving messes in the kitchen or dating unfortunate people. My crazy time with early roommates was living with two Saudi Arabian sisters who had helped spring a political prisoner from jail immediately before they left the country, and who were terrified that the CIA was going to come and get them, not least because there was a CIA guy lurking around, possibly to recruit me, possibly not, and so it was considered wise that I always be the person to answer the door when home.
2. Everybody else was talking about beautiful lake houses they've been in. This made me think about visiting Val in rural Japan, and sitting very happily in the lake house that once belonged to the American diplomats as a summer home and vacation house, now a museum whose main attraction is a screened porch looking over a still and foggy volcanic lake like a scroll painting.
3. Everybody tells their meet cute stories and then want to know how Ciro and I got together, which is complicated and has largely had to be worked out in small pieces through fiction, and is probably not the kind of epic saga people are hoping for when they ask "how did you get together?"
4. And of course people talk about their jobs.
5. Everybody is imagining what it might be like to live in very cold Minnesota (where Travis is moving) and my frame of reference is descriptions of Icelandic winters from my Icelandic friends. And it's very hard for me to talk about the last few years without name dropping "grad school" and "London."
It is really hard for me to figure out how to talk to most people without sounding either dead boring or contemptuous of them. I'm not usually trying to show off; and I don't know how to participate without seeming to show off. It was easier when I was in college, because if I had unusual past history, people figured they'd catch up and I just got a little bit of a head start. But the gap with most (although not all) people keeps widening, partly due to temperament and largely due to luck. I constantly have to pretend even to myself I don't remember things or can't do things. Only what if actually everybody else is doing great things all the time and are similarly afraid to say anything about it?
Otherwise, stopped by Rex's. I wish I knew how I was supposed to act. I wish I could find people it was easy to be around. Liking them doesn't seem to be enough. And maybe this is all stupid because Travis was glad to see me and we had a nice time. But this is why I can't be outgoing anymore, even when I mean to be.
I went to a barbecue at my friend Travis's - my regular lunch buddy in high school, member with me and C.Blacker of an unofficial poetry club back before at least C and I realized our poems were clever beyond simply amusing ourselves; given that they were about wordplay rather than love or angst, I at least thought they functioned solely as satire and not as poetry. Travis also is about to move.
I did not know anyone else at the party, although Ciro to everyone's surprise did (although he had not met Travis before). It occurred to me that one reason for my increasing social dysfunction is that my ability to make confident small talk has steadily diminished since college. In college, I was interesting. Now, in most situations, I'm worried that if I say anything it will seem like I'm trying to one-up people when all I'm trying to do is the normal "oh yes, I've had an experience similar to that." It just sounds pretentious because my life experiences . . . sound made up for dramatic impact.
1. Everybody else is talking about crazy times they had with early roommates, usually related to people leaving messes in the kitchen or dating unfortunate people. My crazy time with early roommates was living with two Saudi Arabian sisters who had helped spring a political prisoner from jail immediately before they left the country, and who were terrified that the CIA was going to come and get them, not least because there was a CIA guy lurking around, possibly to recruit me, possibly not, and so it was considered wise that I always be the person to answer the door when home.
2. Everybody else was talking about beautiful lake houses they've been in. This made me think about visiting Val in rural Japan, and sitting very happily in the lake house that once belonged to the American diplomats as a summer home and vacation house, now a museum whose main attraction is a screened porch looking over a still and foggy volcanic lake like a scroll painting.
3. Everybody tells their meet cute stories and then want to know how Ciro and I got together, which is complicated and has largely had to be worked out in small pieces through fiction, and is probably not the kind of epic saga people are hoping for when they ask "how did you get together?"
4. And of course people talk about their jobs.
5. Everybody is imagining what it might be like to live in very cold Minnesota (where Travis is moving) and my frame of reference is descriptions of Icelandic winters from my Icelandic friends. And it's very hard for me to talk about the last few years without name dropping "grad school" and "London."
It is really hard for me to figure out how to talk to most people without sounding either dead boring or contemptuous of them. I'm not usually trying to show off; and I don't know how to participate without seeming to show off. It was easier when I was in college, because if I had unusual past history, people figured they'd catch up and I just got a little bit of a head start. But the gap with most (although not all) people keeps widening, partly due to temperament and largely due to luck. I constantly have to pretend even to myself I don't remember things or can't do things. Only what if actually everybody else is doing great things all the time and are similarly afraid to say anything about it?
Otherwise, stopped by Rex's. I wish I knew how I was supposed to act. I wish I could find people it was easy to be around. Liking them doesn't seem to be enough. And maybe this is all stupid because Travis was glad to see me and we had a nice time. But this is why I can't be outgoing anymore, even when I mean to be.
