Have you ever written, knowing from the start that the words have nowhere to go? You’ve created no endgame, there is no goal or point or even a mental outline. No lessons to describe because as far as you know you haven’t learned a thing.
I suppose I simply feel like writing tonight – I had a bit of an idea in my head, several really, I even thought of an opening sentence that would have been a tad interesting (or at least intriguing enough to keep someone reading a bit longer…)
Often lately I find that, typically in the dead of night I have a sudden need to talk to somebody – to start a conversation with no intent of leading it anywhere, just talking to talk and hear their voice. I love listening to people talk, I like falling asleep with the television on downstairs because I enjoy listening to people on the news discuss trivial and monumental things. Sometimes I wish I could just call Olga or Heather at two ‘o clock in the morning, because I want to listen to someone talk, and talk to them. It’s a really a bizarre sort of loneliness, when you think about it. And it very typically comes about in the wee small hours when I’m most alone – which is odd, usually when it’s very late I enjoy solitude because the world seems so silent and peaceful. But even now I simply want to talk to somebody. For a moment I could wish that this was for some poetic reason – perhaps the need to feel a human connection through verbal discussion while I contemplate my loneliness in the silent hours of chaotic days.
I just want to talk to someone sometimes – just because.