So much worthless communication. Words clog my brain. Explosion is imminent. I need relief. So I talk to myself.
**********
It’s Saturday morning. My wife and I are having coffee. She reads. I think. We mumble. Senseless blather. Everyone does. Why? Mumbling to ourselves is a way of life.
She blurts out, “I veha dedecid to peke uoy radoun.”
“Huh, what did you say?” I ask.
She glances at me with vacuous eyes. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
I’m guilty of inane babbling. Like this morning while retrieving the newspaper, the same paper that floated in a filthy pool of water on the sidewalk…the only puddle in three miles!
The curse was audible as I squeezed out the water. ’Stupid’ was the adjective. It modified the subject which was expressed with a two-word noun. You can probably figure it out yourself.
We talk to ourselves often and in many ways. Mostly it consists of incoherent chatter about random things. For example, you might say to nobody in particular, “Rats, rain again.” Of course, you wouldn’t use the term ‘rats.’ You might utter with emphasis, ‘hitS’! Enthusiasm is critical for expressive self-talking.
In some situations we chatter with more direct exclamations. We denigrate the existence of inanimate objects that have no particular purpose other than to persecute us. Suppose it’s your golf day. You’re in a rush. Your wife says, “Honey, will you fix the sink faucet?” What would your snarl say, “No problem, Baby, right away?” Maybe. But that’s not what you’d be thinking!
So here you are, spoiling your day doing a plumber’s job, work beneath your status, something you are totally inept at doing. Which include most jobs around the house. It only needs a screw. You find one that fits after an hour’s search. It falls into the disposal unit which, coincidentally, happens to be grinding last night’s leftovers. What would you say to yourself? Never mind. We know.
Certain comments, like those made to errant screws, tend to have religious undertones. God is often referred to, followed by instant sickening drivel, like, “So sorry, so sorry. Didn’t mean that.” We’re not the only loose screws on the planet. God made screws for an infallible test of character. Our responses are meticulously noted in the notorious Books of Life for future reference on ‘that day.’
We often use the discursive method. The shower is a favorite spot for flashbacks of times long past. Like ‘that night’ when a partner shared the shower. You hold the soap like a microphone, talk to it. It mocks you. Such reminiscent self-talking usually concludes with a lamentable, “Oh, the good old days…”
I prefer dialectic communication with my dogs. It’s useful when the air needs to resound with my voice, which is seldom heard. For understandable reasons. Much is muted by marriage.
Dogs always agree, never argue. Unlike children, who’re born self-talkers. Like politicians. They’re in love with their own voices, ones full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
My wife often speaks to inanimate objects, like discussion with the tarnished silver service tray. “It’s about time for your monthly polish.” It’s my clue to exit as silently as my words.
Our Lord gets a lot of verbal abuse these days. “Dear Jesus, can things get any worse?” Yes, in fact they can. And it’s a miracle they don’t, seeing how blasphemously we defame deity.
Words are cheap now. Too many of them. Just noise, a dull roar. It’s a mystery why we carry on so seriously. Maybe it’s because nobody wants to hear us pontificate. Your guess is as good as mine.
**********
Today my wife and I are in our usual places. She asks, “Do you remember last Saturday when you asked me what I said?”
“Remind me,” I say.
“I have decided to keep you around,” she says with a smile.
I knee-jerk a hasty reply. “Only if you resume cooking.” Oops. Silence ensues.
Perhaps in retrospect, I should have simply mumbled instead, “Noly fi ouy emuser gokonic.” He that hath ears, let him hear….
Bud Hearn
April 11, 2014
Illustration courtesy of Leslie Hearn
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