The Conversation

I used to be one of those people who never had anything to talk about. Conversation wasn't exactly what I'd call a free flowing river. More like trying to pee with herpes. In the dark. Not that I'm a social dunce, I'm just a bit "spacey" as one might point out, and I'm constantly surrenduring my attention to shit like fat pigeons, or anything for that matter. So I set out on a journey to figure the essence of stimulating conversation, so I could make like an existentialist pigeon and fly, fly past the elements.

I think my first realization was that I needed to pay attention, but at the same time I couldn't come off as being too "aware". It's hard to seem cool when you're too aware of what you're doing. That's the opposite of being natural, instinctual, a sex machine. Asian drivers blow double-fold because since they can't drive, they become extra conscious of the fact that they are driving, to the point where become uptight and suck even more. The best drivers act as if they're half-asleep. Shutting off my mind is one of the best things I can do when talking to someone.

And I figure that most of conversation is based on selfishness. As in, the conversation is great until someone else starts talking. It's okay to admit it. You love the sound of your own voice, even if you don't actually like sound of your voice. Unless you mean to say you truly care about what - lets name him Bob - has to say over by the water cooler.

Bob: Yeah I went to Home Depot the other day. Got some new patio furnature.
Me: Got new patio furniture you say? How about I stab you in the fucking face?

It's sort of an overgeneralized rule - people want to talk about the sort of things they think about. Sports, music, politics, what cream is good for curing vaginal dryness. But Bob here is talkin about goddamn patio furniture. So listen folks, (not that you'd ever do this) while it may be tempting to talk about how you did not one, but TWO loads of laundry on Sunday, or how you bought new place mats from IKEA, don't make already inattentive saps like me have to brainstorm potential replies to your nitwitted statements about your life which I already care nothing about. Besides, everybody knows I have a fake smile and know how to use it. This branch of conversation evolved backwards.

Ya gotta move forward. But it's funny because sometimes I'll evesdrop on other people and listen as two more or less freshly introduced people talk. You can tell they're not fully comfortable, and there is a sense of self-awareness to their actions that creates an awkwardness that neither of them try to show. And they'd be talking about things like, why they wish cars could fly because traffic sucks. But they're really just trying to get to know each other, so why the hell are they talking about flying cars? Their conversation isn't moving, it's caught in the doldrums.

They missed each other's clue-ins. My over-generalized rule was that people talk about the things they think about, but then there are the things they think about, but know better than to bring up. I love psychology but I’m not going up to people like, “So… howabout that neo cortex?”. Instead, I'll drop suttle clues, words that hint at my inner passions, hoping that the other person will notice them and follow. We all do this, usually unwittingly. I'll casually say something like, “I wanna spank Freud in the ass”. I’ll get a twinkle in my eyes and that's someone's cue to entertain my inklings. Point being, we're beat-around-the-bushers and sometimes it takes a bit of attention and intuition to sniff out our eager ideas from the occasionally uninspired drone of small talk.

Because small talk isn't all bad. There's so much going on during small talk, way more than the name implies. It a common thought that during any conversation runs a discreet, often unnoticed internal dialogue that runs parallel to everything you say. It is that voice of your inner self and he would like to represent you but it's hard. He's often afraid. Two strangers talking about nothing is a way for their internal voices to say, "what can I talk about with you, how comfortable can I be?" They're just trying to figure a way to share their inner world.

But there will always be a gap between any two people. And within every individual him or herself lay a similar disconnect, from what is a true representation to what is represented. The truth about communication is, there will always be a certain disconnect. Sometimes it even seems as if we're merely talking to each other's shadows, because nothing is more true and pure than our inner voice, yet nothing is more deceiving than human communication. It seems as if our best bonds are formed when our internal voices align and speak to each other, without our ever knowing. And that's nothing spiritual, metaphysical or poetic, it's simply true.

Sometimes we're like that dumb kid sitting in a class who understands nothing written on the board, yet is utterly fascinated by the concept of chalk and erasers. We find meaning in the medium, not always in the details. They say God is in the details, but I never knew what that meant. A flower may be made of atoms but at the end of the day, it's still a flower. Right?