2001-07-30 - 2:43 p.m.
Nothing seems to make an impression anymore, except for the heat, which takes the color out of everything. Everything is faded, and lackluster. Everything is such an effort. I donít remember it being this hard last year, or the year before. Maybe it is a sign.
Here are some things:
The shadows are really beautiful in ďTo Kill a Mockingbird,Ē which I saw at the Paramount on Sunday night. Parts of it are hilariously funny, as well; Iíd forgotten that. Jenniferís laugh rang out across the theatre.
I think Iíve forgotten how to make conversation. I went to Wheatsville twice on Sunday (taking advantage of the 10% discount for members that weekend), and both clerks struck up conversations with me, or maybe they were flirting. I was unprepared, and hemmed and hawed and fumbled; I wanted to say, ďI can do a better job at this. Next time Iíll come in, prepared with witty one-liners. This is not me at my conversationally best.Ē I decided they probably flirt with every girl who goes through the line, but I was happy to be included.
At a party on Friday night, an 88 year old woman named Mathilde tried to bum cigarettes off of us. She spoke little English, and we spoke little Spanish, but we fumbled our way through a conversation nonetheless. I told her I spoke some Italian, and she proceeded to speak in Italian; I understood, at best, a few words. Turns out her first husband was the ambassador to Italy (from Ecuador). She was drinking wine; when I offered to get her some water, she said, ďNo. I will go to bed drunk.Ē Later, after I admonished her for smoking too many cigarettes, she reached up and touched my breast, saying something in Spanish. I smiled and nodded and moved on, not really believing what had happened until someone else mentioned it.
Is it just me, or is everyone coupling off?
Iíve seem to lost interest in everybody, and they are all beginning to look alike. I stayed at the Fuzz Club for a grand total of 20 minutes, overwhelmed by all the people around me that I did not want to talk to. At the party on Friday, I had a fifteen minute conversation with Neal, which I abruptly ended when I discovered he liked the Grateful Dead, and when I realized he hadnít asked me a single question about myself. I mean really, do I have time for things like that?
Iíve decided itís better to just not say anything at all, right now, and practice my patented smile and nod technique.
I need to spend more time in coffee shops.