Monday, 1st August 2016

I remember years ago after reading a biography on Nick Drake that I felt I was somehow treading similar lines to him, that maybe one day I would just stop speaking to people, not having anything I could really say, having so much to say that nothing would quite convey the depth of feeling behind all the words and social etiquette.
Although I got over that actual fear of going mute one day that thought still pops up now and again, the last couple of days especially. The past couple of weeks I've been going to quite a few social gatherings: birthday parties, leaving drinks and the like, and now I sit here after all of them and it and wonder if the story has got all too large now and now whatever happens or whatever I do or say, it's all pretty old now, I've heard myself drunk as many times as anyone else has in the world. I've seen them drunk, or high, or nervous or pretending and they seem to keep to their scripts well too. It's not them or me, it's all of us moving like a hive, blisters and boils on the face of the social interactions, trying to be liked, found interesting or attractive, be funny or entertaining, be watched or desired.
Somehow I feel as if I should know the short cuts and quick routes throughout the matrix of success if I truly believe I can see this matrix, if I could really read it I would know how to use it right? And yet I don't and so that evidence is enough to tell me I don't really see it at all.
And so why speak? If everything you say is somehow not what you really meant at all? If all that's heard is a jumbled mix of incorrectly expressed emotion, of an 'I love you' in all its ugly complexity.