The Art of Inane Conversation

it would appear that i just don't know how to talk to people. i'm sort of temping at the minute and last night i had to work with this 17 year old kid. revelations galore! is inane conversation better than no conversation? is it better to say something useless than nothing at all? i don't understand why she would want to know what my cat is called or how old my brother is or where i like to go at the weekend (that's the killer). and conversely, i fail to see why she thinks i need to know who she thinks is cute or what kind of shops she likes. what the hell is so wrong with awkward silence anyway?
i find it so unutterably difficult to just talk. i hate the thought of anyone, even my close friends (of which there are few) having anything to say about me. i don't like to go out because then you're just giving people ammunition in the form of what you wear, how you stand, who you talk to - or more to the point, don't talk to. where i come from, you aren't you - you are who you are known by, seen with. i'm pretty sure it's the same everywhere but i'll be damned if i give those fuckers anything.

okay rant over.

it's sunny today, patchy sun but sun nonetheless. and that lifts my spirits just a little. soon i'll be able to go read in the park and maybe i'll finally finish wuthering heights. not the sunniest of books but i force myself to read a 'great work of literature' every summer and last year it was good old WH. i just never got around to finishing the fucker. i made a pilgrimage to the nearest library last week and fully intend to return - all pepped and ready to talk to people. i did well today - i had to ask a sales assistant where the scart leads were and did it without breaking into a sweat. the socially inept will surely know and appreciatewhat an achievement that is. now i just have to work out how to plug the fucker in...

i went into a record store yesterday and they were playing loveless by mbv, one of those albums i had long since forgotten my love for. it has duly been resurrected (much like the sun) with memories still dangling from the cassette box. i first heard it the summer i was 15 when i discovered you could hire cds from the library in the town where i grew up. being poor, i could never buy an album on the hope that i would like it so to hire and copy was the greatest thing ever. it reminds me of feeling content, sitting on the back doorstep in the sun and managing to forget the mess of my life for a second. that was the summer i read les liaisons dangereuse.