I talk too much

My garrulity and loudness have long been an embarrassment to me – as they also have been to many of my friends. The only thing that shuts me up – and down – is deep depression, which is obviously not a preferable state. I’ve been especially gabby lately, and have found people ending conversations abruptly. I was reminded of something I wrote many years ago in this space:

At the end of party I went to recently, a woman told me that I talk too much.  I didn’t know how to respond, and left the party shortly afterwards, a bit confounded and mute, and afflicted with what the French call l’esprit d’escalier – “the wit of the staircase” – i.e., my mind began filling with all sorts of things I should or could have said.

So:  a mind rewind.  Here we go:  “Bob, you talk too much.”  (There might have been an exclamation point there.) “True, true, true, true.”  “Not ‘too much,’ just ‘much.’”  “If you subtract the number of times I repeat myself, then you know that at least I don’t say too much.” “I can tell you why: You’re not going anywhere, are you?” “I just keep going until I find a word that makes you friendly.” “Does that mean you don’t think I’m interesting?” “What would you suggest I not have said?” Or, finally: “Throw me away and call it a day.”

[A friend wrote me, charmingly:  “You don’t talk too much.  People talk too little.” — 16 Jan. 05]

1 Comment»

  robert wrote @

As a person who has spent a considerable amount of time keeping company with you, I completely disagree that you talk too much. On many an occasion have you regaled me with your anecdotes and takes on life and I’d hate to think of you any other way.

On the other hand I find it strangely out of character for you to be so succinct and pithy in your blog posts.

You’re seemingly a much more voracious speaker than writer.

Love you all the same.

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