the crime comes last of all

an exercise in blurring the truth.

Friday, March 10, 2006

yeah, yeah, yeah. no, no, no.

There are times when it's so easy. When everything just falls out in a companionable discourse, and helps her remember why they were ever friends. Those times are in groups, those times are what helps her rein herself in when they're alone together. When it's awkward, and touchy, and she feels threatened and vulnerable because the conversation makes her feel trapped. She feels like a certain manner of speaking is being forced upon her: a specific, cold-logic way of carefully laying down each thought in a meticulously articulated fashion instead of just talking dammit, and hoping there'll be an understanding because they're friends and they've done nothing but talk to each other for two years.

In her mind there is a clear, black, Sharpie-thick line between the prepared reasoning of a debate, and a jovial argument between friends. One is torturous, one is knock-down drag-out harping over specific words and turns of phrase. The other is light, relaxing, talking about issues that demand impassioned speech but letting little fallacies and syllogisms slide because it's all for the fun of being able to toss points back and forth. There isn't a need for reasoned arguments, because the argument is being crystallized and solidified as one speaks.

She can't seem to convey the idea that one's an activity she hates that one performs in a structured setting, and the other is a way to unwind.


The Vanity Project - Wilted Rose