The Isolation Journals - Day 90

Prompt:  Recall a conversation. Perhaps it is an inner dialogue you’ve had many times; perhaps it’s a real conversation, or one you imagine having with a loved one as soon as you can see them again. Think of how your aloneness has unfolded throughout quarantine. Can you remember the first time you added another voice? How has it been transformed by the addition of another voice, or its absence?
 
Now write. Record only the “responses.” Include the silences. Refine each line to its bare minimum, maintaining its integrity, before you add in the next. Perhaps one voice drops out completely—like Bach would do in a Fuga—and perspective shifts to follow the will of the accompaniment, taking you to a completely new place.

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Wow, first, did you know that there are people who legitimately have no inner monologue?  To fully articulate a thought they pretty much have to say it out loud or write it down?  Isn't that wild?  Perhaps you are one of them, and I mean no disrespect but how do you live?  Do you ever shut up, or is the space between your ears just a swirling void?  How do you not constantly put your foot in your mouth - can you think about your words before you speak them aloud?  

No inner monologue.  That just seems excruciating.  Although, reportedly, people lacking an inner monologue think a constant stream of internal speech sounds exhausting.  But maybe they just blurted that out without thinking.  How does that work?  Can you self-censor when you have no inner monologue?  I have so many questions.

I feel like 90% of my life is inner monologue, and most of my interpersonal communication is me listening rather than talking.  Or just straight up eavesdropping on strangers, which I have sorely missed during this time of social distancing.  It's not at all difficult to imagine a one sided conversation, one where you are dying to know what the other person is saying, yet the not-knowing makes it all the more amusing.

Warning:  This is an A/B conversation, but maybe you can C your way into it.

A:  ...

B:  Yea, well, first of all, it wasn't my fault.  The other guy started it.

A:  ...

B:  No, that was just a coincidence.  I didn't know there were cameras, it was dark in that tunnel, and I thought I felt a spider crawl into my bra.  Don't even act like you wouldn't do the same thing!

A:  ...

B:  So there I am, dripping wet, holding my bra-

A:  ...

B:  Yea, I had to, to shake out the spider.  And then how the hell do you expect me to put the damn thing back on with the shoulder harness and everything.  It's impossible.  So there I am, like I said, just full on wet t-shirt contest status, and this random guy wearing like, a Titleist visor and pleated khaki shorts just out of nowhere grabs me by the hair and dumps a full solo cup full of Coors in my face.

A:  ...

B:  Trust me, I know my shitty beers.  I'm like a piss-water sommelier.