Just a beginning before I get out of bed and head down to make pancakes. Julia is still asleep at 9:12 a.m. -- Late night for her last night with Robert and Mary as I dined with grownups at a Forward Theater fund raiser.
I remain incredibly boring. I stun myself. I am totally behind on current events, I barely am aware of the world. Not aware of what is happening in my town until it makes NPR. I am reading nothing interesting or worth talking about. I don't 'get' the New Yorker cartoons. I am watching old movies and defunct tv series. I cook, clean my garden, teach Julia about more, and figure out ways to renovate my kitchen in the cheapest way possible. Nothing of interest to more than me. Weeds are greens can't even sustain my attention. I have few ideas that are well formed enough to share. Honestly, just few ideas. I talk in generalities and would prefer to remain quiet. I was painfully aware at last night’s dinner that there were long periods of time when I sat mute, somewhat comfortable listening, but not willing to really engage enough with anyone to further conversation.
Yes, this is totally necessary. This time. This demeanor. I can see that, but I am not a good dinner guest. Not at all holding up my end of social responsibility. Hard to take that in and see myself in the role. I don’t mean that I have always been on top of everything and a scintillating conversationalist, but in comparison to what I am now . . . oh, I was the toast of the town. Really, I feel rather like a energy sponge. I’ve talked to people like me. People who kill conversations, who stop interesting exchanges dead in their tracks.
Process. More process.
Yes, and scared that this is the final result and not just a snapshot of a day during the process. Do butterflies worry this way when they are in chrysalis?
Enough. Pancakes with peaches!