29 Apr 2016

Conversations - The Legal Drug

Do you remember the last time you got a gift of words?

Not empty words, like the bricks used to add another higher tower to your ever-expanding castle on clouds. But more earthy, real, with just a few blotches on the side, which is an artistic watermark at best, or just a trace of an untidy writer, at worst.

You cannot hate them though, these untidy writers. The beauty of their words does not lie in the smooth curve of their alphabets. It's how one alphabet comes together with a thousand others, and leads you down a path that takes blind turns, edges along steep falls, meanders way off the track and yet, leads you inside a person's mind.

What it means, is that, as you read these words, which I write propped on my posterior flattened against the couch, with my body gradually sinking into the folds of a smooth, velvet cushion, and hair flowing down in a display of a day's disorder, you tread upon the bushy outgrowth of my thoughts.

Why bushy? Why outgrowth? Can I explain the choice of words that seems to indicate something entirely inappropriate? (and embarrassing, for those who can connect my digital identity to a real person)

It is the sludge of thoughts that comes pouring out of a mind that has remained shut for too long. If you were in my shoes, you would find yourself suddenly highly articulate in the ubiquitous and over-utilized language of bullshit. The words rolling on your tongue and leaving your mouth, leave behind an odd taste of familiarity, and those that take an inhuman and completely absurd leap of faith from the deep confines of my head and on your screen, they appear no less stranger to my eye.

What are we doing here? You, me - we! 

We are here, trying to piece together a conversation, finding a clear patch of thought-land where each one of us (well, mostly me, unless you leave an equally detailed comment) can share xeroxed pieces of our individuality for the other to know, understand, reach out and connect with. You trudge through the muck of trust issues, while I try to not stay too aloof nor too close.

Because it is easy to like people, as against popular opinion. You like people for their wisdom, you like them for their humour, you even like them for their pain and how it somehow becomes the mortar for their character. You like them for their stories, their hard-hitting intelligence, or a simple non-threatening curiosity that fuels a stray conversation.

When magic meets minimalism, you find words, decorating the air, and whispering your thoughts in the other's mind. The more words you get out of your system, the more you untangle 'You' from yourself. And the more words you digest, the brighter it gets on the inside.

Here's to everyone cherishing late-night conversations with friends and strangers as they piece together stories from thin air.

What kind of conversations do you like?

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Unless my thoughts fickle turned your brain into pickle, I'd love to hear if my words found your funny bone to tickle.

Or sparked a chain of thoughts. Even if they did not, do stop by and say "Hi!". That would mean a lot.