At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Monday, May 30, 2011


The security guard asked me what I'm doing here today. I didn't feel like pretending.
I told him that I'm hiding out. Weekends are a monumental pain, and a three-day weekend is fifty percent more so.
Fact is, I no longer feel particularly human anymore.

Being in a group emphasizes the disconnect. At parties nowadays it has become clear that talking is a chore - what do I say? I still like people, and observing their personalities in action is interesting, enjoyable even for a while.
But conversationally I'm not particularly gifted. That has become far more obvious in the past year.

Listening is easy - just let them natter on about their work, their colleagues, their recent purchases. Doing that does not require a shared point of view, sometimes there doesn't even have to be anything at all in common.
Show attention by once or twice interjecting a comment, that's it.

But staying out of the way in a corner by myself is much, much easier.
I'm just not a social beast.

The financial district is nice and quiet on the weekend, when the streets are empty. Hardly any cars, the occasional cluster of wandering tourists, or someone heading northwards from Market street.
I cross the street to avoid passing people.
Solitude beckons.
Nice empty office.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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