In other news, my friend Dexter (I introduced him in one of my earliest and barely noticed posts Do Blind People Have Trust Issues? and you should read it for a glimpse of his personality) is now spending a few nights a week here. He accepted a job here (here meaning the general relatively short commute to his job radius from my house) but lives too far away to commute from where he lives, so I offered my spare bedroom if he wanted to stay here a few nights during the work week.
Last week was the first week of this new arrangement and it went well. We sat and talked for several hours each night. Since I usually only have myself to talk to or with, this was quite a treat. And they were the most excellent conversations. We commented though not in blog style that we should record our conversations.
Dex: We should record our conversations. We have some great ideas here. We should record them to see if they make sense when we listen to them tomorrow.
Me: Or to see if we are as smart as we think we sound.
Dex: Yeah, that too.
Me: I have a digital recorder that is voice activated.
We had this same conversation on a couple of nights but I didn’t use the digital recorder to record what we said, I just remembered what we said. We haven’t yet put the digital recorder to use but it might be an interesting experiment. But then I wonder if we will be able to ignore the recorder and just talk or will we be so conscious of the recorder it tempers what we might say which defeats the purpose of having the recorder recording the now stifled conversation so bereft of creative flow that it does little more than sputter and lurch about.
But back to having another person in the house and how it means I’m watching less television and spending less time online. It’s true. I missed the season finale of a series I had been following and hadn’t missed an episode and I don’t have a DVR which means I’m cheap and it also means I must watch the show at the time it is aired. Okay, I could watch it at a later date on the internet if that show is shown on the internet but then I have that buffering problem and the jerkiness bothers me but the point and I think I have one is that I missed it due to conversation so I don’t know what happened. Not only that, I have been so delighted by actual conversation that I have seen no need to try to find out what happened by the grace of Google.
So I haven’t been writing as much, not that I was ever one of those everyday post people or even the post a week people. I truly follow no predictable post schedule. I have been reading most of the blogs I follow though commenting even less frequently than I typically do. And I haven’t missed it. That is the power of conversation.
You might be wondering why I’m writing now. Well, he’s not here tonight which means no conversation which means I can write a little so I am. Except that it seems like a lot because I just put up a post and now I’m writing all of this. It must have been dammed (not to be confused with damned) up inside me and a little crack in the dike is growing wider so the words are flowing.
Like this conversation we had the other day after I returned from the kitchen with a bowl of recently zapped in the microwave meat sauce for spaghetti and a bag of white corn tortilla chips.
Dex: Is that chili?
Dex: What is it?
Me: It’s meat sauce for spaghetti but I had spaghetti last night and I didn’t want pasta again today.
Dex: It looks like chili.
Me: That’s because I put chili powder in it but not as much as I put in the chili I make.
Dex: It looks good. May I try it?
Me: Okay, but I’m double-dipping over here. If that bothers you then, oh well. Though I tend to think any stress that arises from seeing someone double dip a chip is proportional to how well they know the double-dipper. If the double-dipper is a stranger the distain is palpable, but that distain dissipates as we better know someone and completely disappears if the double-dipper is someone we have exchanged bodily fluids with.
Dex: You’ve given double-dipping quite a bit of thought.
Me: It’s what I do. Though it’s weird that you aren’t bothered by double-dipping or certain other bodily fluid exchanges but you are grossed out by the thought of sharing a toothbrush. Saliva is saliva whether it be on a chip or a lip or a toothbrush.
Dex: Don’t ever borrow my toothbrush.
It is possible that the previous conversation is a fabrication. Of course, it is also possible that someone will discover why some of our fellow humans are so enthralled with the many unreal reality shows fueled by has been actors and wannabe hangers on.
Is there really a difference between an imagined conversation and an actual conversation? Is it simply a matter of indulgence and embellishment and the liberal application of poetic license? Or is there a certain violation of trust at play here? Or is this simply too much contemplation over conversations both real and imaginary?
Or perhaps the sentence ‘It is possible that the previous conversation is a fabrication’ is the fabrication. I suppose we’ll never know except I will know but I’ll never tell, unless I do.
I feel I must put up a disclaimer that I am not one to double dip in public unless it is with a dance partner and if the dipping we are referring to is part of a dance and not performed with chips or crudités. However, in the privacy of my own little abode, I feel quite content to double dip a chip or two or twenty. I have no control with chips. That’s not true, I just choose to cede all control in the face of white corn chips and salsa or meat sauce for spaghetti.
I also had a big hunk of watermelon because two courses is practically a two course meal and fairly healthy except for the chips and the meat sauce that began as a bit of bacon grease to sweat the chopped onions. I wanted to show you a picture of the meat sauce but I ate it before I thought about snapping (that’s photography talk) a picture so instead I’ll leave you with a picture of a chicken I liked to call Dinner.