Sometimes when I’m hanging out with Evan and Tonya, I notice in myself a disturbing parallel to a story that my parents like to tell about my great uncle Garth.
As the story goes, my uncle would routinely walk down the road to our house, let himself in, turn on the television or change the channel to something he preferred to watch, lie down and take a nap, then get up and leave, all without saying a word to anyone. Not a fucking word.
Maybe it’s because I spend so much time with those guys now, that I don’t feel any pressure to be up and chatty all the time and, for their part, they seem generally content to let me be a part of the furniture if that seems like where I’m at. That’s a pretty great friendship. Still, when I’ve not said anything for a half-hour or more, I imagine a little flashing neon sign buzzing in my brain: GARTH ::: GARTH ::: GARTH ::: GARTH :::
… and I try to form some words. And, sometimes I really struggle. I have a lot of thoughts, and I have a lot of things to say, but the thoughts and things do not feel like coming out.
It seems like that might be a pretty slippery slope.
[On an unrelated matter, here is a collage thingy I made recently for a friend.]