It’s amazing what one can say when trying hard not to say anything. It’s incredible how easy it is to place words together in a strand and let it all run together and slide smoothly out of you into the open – glaring stark against the world… weaving a web of complete envelopment and beguilement… of protection…

And from what? And how?

Ah…the sweetness of mysteries.

It puzzles also me.

For the play of words, are like a caressing wind, a fury of storms or a deep eerie calm. And with words, I can be anything – oh yea…

“ In Santa Monica, in the winter time The lazy streets so undemanding I walk into the crowd In Santa Monica, you get your coffee from The coolest places on the promenade Where people dress just so Beauty so unavoidable Everywhere you turn, it’s there I sit and wonder what am I doing here? … In Santa Monica, on the boulevard You’ll have to dodge those in line skaters Or they’ll knock you down I never felt so lonely Never felt so out of place I never wanted something more than this But on the telephone line I am anyone, I am anything I want to be I could be a supermodel Or Norman Mailer And you wouldn’t know the difference See, on the telephone line I am any height, I am any age I want to be I could be a caped crusader, or space invader And you wouldn’t know the difference Or would you? Or would you? ”

Its fantastic this gap in personality, merely caused by a play of words and voila …

It’s amazing how this knack for conversing under extreme pressure has become a defence… I barely pause anymore to take stock when I with one who makes me uncomfortable… I guess its to fill up uncomfortable silences, to find common ground… yet really – in all honesty… its so that the words would ground the foundations of a large barrier and wall of protection…

The stupid thing about this “gift”, is that when you need it most… it fails you.

Like when you don’t care anymore about appearances nor role-playing, nor being liked nor being loved, but to just be. It helps you not, when you just want to be silent and not to merely be accepted for what your words can only express, but by what your actions want to scream out loud. When all you want is to shut up and let your eyes tell the story… but you falter and you do something or say something stupid and you botch it all up and curl up inside in frustration.

How did it go wrong?

Who am I really without my words? I’m much too afraid to see…