Safe Harbor

Would you like a conversation machine? I feel as if I am in one constantly. I believe my time sheet will reflect hundreds of hours of conversations. I spend most days leaping from one discussion to the next. Big beautiful dialogues with fantastic people, friends full of imagination and innovation, and then random clerks and passersby in my life, who drift quickly into my narrative and just as quickly wade off into the background.

Several people in my life kindly provide themselves to me for conversations that I anticipate will last the rest of my life. In many cases I can identify the exact starting moment, inversely I hate being able to identify the exact moment we wrapped it up. I prefer the never ending variety of friendship. My conversations just seem to go on and on, sometimes even after the other person has stopped coming around, but I just keep it warm for them in case they should stop bye unexpected.

I cut my finger open on a block of Tillamock cheddar. Well actually the knife I was using to make a slice of cheese for my sandwich. (my brother will tell me this is why he buys the pre-sliced Tillamock) But the thing about this cut is it keeps getting caught on everything, sweaters, doorknobs, bag zippers, loose lemon juice, you know the usual. So I feel lame putting a giant bandaid on this small cut, but it just keeps getting caught on every edge of my life. A truly terrible moment when a violent cuss word bursts from my lips every time I so much as reach into my bag for my phone. I must look like some possessed tourette's victim to all those around me. I come cussing into every room. But the bandaide comes off and like mom used to say you need to let the wound breath to heal. But if I let it breath than I hit the damn thing constantly, so it has been five long expletive filled days and the thing still bleeds.

The wood-shop has become a bit of a sanctuary for conversations, I find it super satisfying to place small foam earplugs in my ears and just work. I often wish I could pull off the same quiet gesture during many conversations I find myself in during the day. Conversations about nothing and nothing and nothing and yet I am still talking and listening. The wood-shop is so uncomplicated with useless talk. Its like the silence of a library, odd to find silence while using a table saw. I guess its because you have to pay all of your attention to the saw in fear of receiving the wrong kind of attention from the saw blade. The current wood-shop of choice maintains all blades at a premium edge, and were one to place finger to blade, the cut would be very clean indeed. But the best cut off currently remains the vacuum of exterior noise. I find the quietest moments of my day are the ones that belong to only me. Maybe the loudmouth in me is finally waning.

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