Look, I need to tell you something

I really wish you’d shut the hell up.

It is as if you have spread your gigantic, veined, leathery wings to prevent my escape, and are now tearing chunks of my will to live with endless, rapid-fire relations of the most commonplace events.

Actually that analogy doesn’t quite work, because for you to tear chunks, you’d have to close your mouth. I think I’ll not wait for that eventuality, believing it anything but.

If I’m not making eye contact, you’re probably anecdotizing something that should not be anecdotized. The new shirt you bought is the content (banal as it is, but small steps). Momentarily losing your wallet at the cash register is not. The sun being in your eyes on the way back from the mall is not. The pile of wood you have to move when you get home is not. Chaff. Wheat. Discriminate. It’s all right if you have to talk more slowly in order to adequately perform said discrimination. That’s what competent conversationalists do. It’s not awkward. Really.

If once is funny, twice is not necessarily hilarious.

Have you made the slightest effort to locate the answer to that question yourself before asking me?

Silence is not an undesirable state to be avoided at any cost.

There is almost nothing interesting that can happen to a person in the bathroom.

You know who you are.

Actually, you don’t and never will.

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