This is wonderful. Talking to strangers is one of the best things in the world, especially when you’re feeling flat or unhappy. (OK, talking to toddlers is right up there. Bonus points for talking to strangers who have toddlers.)
Wow I really thought I was the only person who entered the multiverse every time I make small talk with strangers. My wife is the same with everyone and cannot understand how I talk with strangers. But for a minute I *am* interested in raves, and I *do* love hot weather!
Gosh what a delightful read. There's something you've recreated here of having a pleasant ten-minute waiting-at-the-sandwich-counter discussion with a stranger, which turns into an informative monologue, a little cross-section of someone else's entire world and worldview shared. While that scenario can be boorishly uncomfortable (I remember the old church ladies at a certain point in my life), here it comes across both in your recounting and in your tone as an honest, charming way of making connection.
I used to work for a magazine in Baton Rouge, and my bossfriend and I would mock ourselves and each other for this. It wasn't artificial, exactly, but there was a certain gee-whiz aw-shucks golly-wow chicken-fried speech register we both used to dip into when we had to go out into the country and get excited about the Crab Cookoff and Zydeco 5K. And I would often be excited! But I did not use my City Gay Voice.
This is definitely one of the best parts about "having a job" and being out in the world with a purpose, rather than being a writer at home all day (I'm not sure it's possible, economically, to "only be a writer" but I'm also not even sure it's desirable, spiritually). I love chatting with the people whose paths I cross in all my little everyday missions. I love to become a regular at a café, and be greeted by the staff, and know their names, and their stories. I love to exchange a little gossip, or commiserate about the woes of the world, with the cashier, or the barman, or someone else in the queue. I love to talk to the receptionist, or the administrator, or the maintenance guy, and how they are, and what they're into. I love to know my colleagues' business, and care about it. I love all of that.
"Sometimes you’ve got to be a little dramatic, I find, in order to work up the nerve to get out of bed and do anything." 👍🏻
This is wonderful. Talking to strangers is one of the best things in the world, especially when you’re feeling flat or unhappy. (OK, talking to toddlers is right up there. Bonus points for talking to strangers who have toddlers.)
Wow I really thought I was the only person who entered the multiverse every time I make small talk with strangers. My wife is the same with everyone and cannot understand how I talk with strangers. But for a minute I *am* interested in raves, and I *do* love hot weather!
Gosh what a delightful read. There's something you've recreated here of having a pleasant ten-minute waiting-at-the-sandwich-counter discussion with a stranger, which turns into an informative monologue, a little cross-section of someone else's entire world and worldview shared. While that scenario can be boorishly uncomfortable (I remember the old church ladies at a certain point in my life), here it comes across both in your recounting and in your tone as an honest, charming way of making connection.
Thank you!
I used to work for a magazine in Baton Rouge, and my bossfriend and I would mock ourselves and each other for this. It wasn't artificial, exactly, but there was a certain gee-whiz aw-shucks golly-wow chicken-fried speech register we both used to dip into when we had to go out into the country and get excited about the Crab Cookoff and Zydeco 5K. And I would often be excited! But I did not use my City Gay Voice.
This is definitely one of the best parts about "having a job" and being out in the world with a purpose, rather than being a writer at home all day (I'm not sure it's possible, economically, to "only be a writer" but I'm also not even sure it's desirable, spiritually). I love chatting with the people whose paths I cross in all my little everyday missions. I love to become a regular at a café, and be greeted by the staff, and know their names, and their stories. I love to exchange a little gossip, or commiserate about the woes of the world, with the cashier, or the barman, or someone else in the queue. I love to talk to the receptionist, or the administrator, or the maintenance guy, and how they are, and what they're into. I love to know my colleagues' business, and care about it. I love all of that.
Great piece.
Beautiful essay, Danny! And I melted at “this is my friend Papa”!