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funny boy talking

Little is as invigorating as a cold shower on a hot and balmy day.

Well, I suppose masturbation on any day might easily rival that…but that’s a totally different musing. And for now, we're going to focus on the matter at hand.

So, today was brutal. The heat was unforgiving and mercilessly battered the senses.

I walked around the City for a few hours wandering, wondering, pondering, panting, turning my head one too many times to gawk, watch the way they walk, and talk on their cell phones, reassuring themselves that they were in fact not alone and lonely.

And along with walking, I did a lot of talking too, mostly to myself though.

On occasion I spoke with a cashier in customer-speak, “Here you go sir. And here’s your change. Have a good day.” "Thanks, you too," both of us smiling, so that we might part amicably and quickly get on to something better.

Apart from these few token interactions, at some point I became aware and amazed by how much dazed talking I did with myself. For I realized that every thought was simply part of this fascinating, rather relentless and long, ongoing conversation I’ve been consistently having with my lonesome for almost ever. Even when others are talking, I still seem to be talking to myself, asking, “How am I supposed to respond to that? When will this person stop talking? Can’t I just walk away?”

So, now conscious of this internal play and prattle, I decided to test my mettle and have some fun with my mind. To begin with, I was inclined to make lots of little jokes at every opportunity - poking fun at people passing me; pretending to be Korean while passing through Korea town; pulling the bill of my cap down, absconding the public eye and the hounding relentless paparazzi, imagining pairs of female Scandinavian tourists sounding me out as to this and that tourist trap, then inviting me along because my siren song was Snap! simply too enticing to ignore and not eventually - reward...

At one point I dared myself to pretend I was talking with someone on a headset, even if I really didn’t have one nor even own a cell phone. Of course, I was not brave enough to actually do this, which I thought was a downright and dirty shame. And thus ashamed, I chastised myself severely for not having the gall, the balls, the simpleton’s courage to be silly and just have some harmless fun.

Yet, despite my utter lack of nerve, I still found my dialectic quite comical and amusing. And I concluded that this tuning in was quite like listening to my own private radio, a never ending broadcast of Comedy Central - just for me. Funny, I never before realized how funny I can be.

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