Sometimes its hard to tell people on webcam that something’s not okay. But to all the people whose silences I miss, here are some words from the controversial- dramatic, purple-prose, sari-swirling Roy.
“Estha had always been a quiet child, so no one could pinpoint the degree of accuracy exactly when (the year, if not the month or day) he had stopped talking. Stopped talking altogether, that is. The fact is that there wasn’t an ‘exactly when’. It had been a gradual winding down and closing shop. A barely noticeable quietening. As though he had simply run out of conversation and had nothing left to say. Yet Estha’s silence was never awkward. Never intrusive. Never noisy. It wasn’t an accusing, protesting silence as much as a sort of aestivation, a dormancy, the psychological equivalent of what lungfish do to get themselves through the dry season, except that in Estha’s case the dry season looked as though it would last forever.
Over time, he had acquired the ability to blend into the background whereever he was – into bookshelves, gardens, curtains, doorways, streets – to appear inanimate, almost invisible to the untrained eye. It usually took strangers a while to notice him even when they were in the same room with him. It took them even longer to notice that he never spoke. Some never noticed at all.
Estha occupied very little space in the world.”
(the passage after this hilarious – he sees the reflection of a hopeful, flying bird in his dog’s shiny balls. …but i’ve got too much work to type it out.)
On other things, I went for a French friends picnic at the Carlton Gardens – some of them really are snobs (making fun of the wannabe Quebecoise who translate everything!). The rest tho, are lovable daft-punk-dancing nuts. My vodka and I formed a special agreement that night.
Also, at a Physics barbeque on the South Lawn, they were dipping spring flowers in liquid hydrogen and breaking them like glass. So amazing. I smashed a sausage with a sledgehammer. For all the feminists, yeahhhhh mothafuckaaaa!
