Comfortable silences

I know I’m an odd duck. I like the silences that make most people feel uncomfortable. I only get uncomfortable when it becomes painful obvious that the other person is uncomfortable. I don’t like to make people feel out of sorts.

Back some eleven years or so ago, before I decided to kick the booze monkey riding my back, I was one of those other kinds of people — one of those poor folks who could and would fill up any uncomfortable space of silence that might rear it’s ugly head. I’d kill it and make a bloody event of the matter. Body part everywhere (none of the mine) and the silence was soundly defeated each and every time.

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Something Old, Something Covid-19

I’d had it.

Until yesterday, I was doing my social distancing as we all should be doing at this time (bear with me, this post won’t be preachy about the pandemic; this post, anyway…) and doing the exact opposite with social networking and getting a little too wrapped up in over- and shit-posting and would you please take a few steps back, Michael, ‘cos I’m a-feeling a little claustrophobic…

Yeah. That thing.

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