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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Rambi who wrote (49598)	4/24/2000 8:17:00 PM
From: Crocodile	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

Dan and Ammo exchanged glances. "Why does Mom talk to strangers like she's really interested?" I often think of how the art of verbal interaction seems to be dying in this age when everyone seems to be in a Big Hurry. Many seem to have lost the "art of listening" and cannot carry on a meaningful conversation... are only capable of participating in a two-sided monologues... "Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. The friends who listen to us are the ones we move toward, and we want to sit in their radius. When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand." - Karl Menninger

To: Rambi who wrote (49598)	4/24/2000 8:33:00 PM
From: Gauguin	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 71178

"I forgot what I started this post to tell you." Hmmm. I like any post that starts with, "And another thing." There was a period of time in my life, might still be, when I could keep my mouth shut. But what you have described there, is the basic difference, "between people." Twas a nail-head hit. Smackeroo. I go into a coffee shop, where the person is ambling, wobbling, worbling, perhaps blindly, through their day, (this could be a cab); and I can SEE the whole "DECOR" of that/this life in a few seconds; you know, unless I really scrub; and the contemplative paul-mind function, switches over to the interactive paul. Hands-off. It's a hand off. To the people-and-interactive gotta-do-something-entertaining-or just-die-function. (This for the agoraphobe.) But ~ There's nothing to DO! Everybody else, that would be MJ and Dash, seem to have something to do; something invisible, compose a fucking novel ~ but I don't really believe they DO. And they're certainly not performance artists; that's for sure. They're milling. Un-focusedly milling. "Gazing." Looking at stuff, I've already looked at, and know damn well doesn't hold any attention. They're Faking. "Keeping quiet," in polite terms. They will get their coffee from this person, in another three minutes, and be on their way. Hopefully, with naught but polite non-interaction. Well. I have too much space for that. Space in Time. I must TALK WITH THE GIRL. I sidle over to the counter. I look at her for a few seconds, as she's 'spressing the 'spresso, and I smile and say ~ slowly, calmly ~ "You know what I like to do?" While my little friends are already getting very nervous. They wish they had blocked me away from the counter-shelf, instead of milling. Tactical error. I can see by the way they're now looking at me, glancing askance sideways, they're wonder how I got open under the basket. She looks over the cup she's fixing, sees me smiling ~ I can sense Dash and MJ's fists clinching in their pockets, wondering what embarrassment this is going to cost them ~ but she just sees me there smiling, leaning my chin against her high counter on my folded arms ~ and all she can say, is a friendly and curious, "What?" (With a smile back.) "I like to talk to girls." Then she messes up the order. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I do this, partly, because I know it makes my caterpillar-friends crawl. [Before long, in any circumstance you're not getting what you want, you can threaten them with, "I'm just going to go talk to that person."] [I guess I'm kind of mean to them. But if I don't exhibit some Power? Some personal cost of doing business? Next thing I know they're saying, "You can handle Safeway!"] {Well, there's that, and my Condition.} Besides: Who wants to travel with a dishrag?