The Sound Of Silence

9:58 PM | | Edit Post
Remember that old Simon and Garfunkle song? I'm sure there were lots of term papers written about the zen meaning of the whole thing and it is rather depressing with that hello darkness my old friend stuff. I however, like to choose just the lyrics I like and forget all the rest. I like the people hearing without listening part. I hear without listening. But I didn't on the road. I want to count up the number of people I actually listened to on my trip. I'm guessing it is about 200. In a month. I don't think I've listened to 200 people my whole life. I mean really listened.


Driving around in my very ordinary pickup doing my very ordinary errands, I have been driven mad by the noise. I put on my favorite Motown and had to hold my hands over my ears. Tried NPR. Tried BEN-FM playing whatever they feel like. Can't compete with the thoughts in my head. This is a habit I picked up while driving Woody. Woody has AM. I think it works because I can hear static, but there are no AM stations to pick up anymore. I thought I would listen to portable XM. Didn't work. On one or two occasions resorted to iPad, once with one earbud in. Couldn't figure out how to do that shuffle thing so I ended up listening to Shania Twain sing that song about girls going out and letting their hair down and having lots of fun over and over and over. Took me two days to get it out of my head again. I also didn't answer my phone for a month except for family drama and listening to my ex-husband give the weather report (although most of that was by text). I have driven in silence. No one can believe it. I can't believe it. But it is amazing what you think about when you're not thinking about your grocery list, what time the dry cleaner closes, if you should go to the gym this morning or this afternoon (knowing that if you decide this afternoon it means you won't go at all). As amazing as it was, I can't remember what I thought about. I just did. I hardly talked at all. And I can't now. And I have no one to listen to.


This reentry thing is really strange. I am really confused. Resorted to favorite stress-busting activity. Purchased shoes. Very expensive shoes. Lots of them. And more very expensive lingerie. Hope springs eternal. I miss my almost-real imaginary boyfriend and there is a possibility we will be meeting again this week. Or his very attractive and recently-divorced dad? That's twisted. They get the Manolo heels. My real life gets the needlepointed flat ones, although I almost always buy those on eBay. The real shoe store promotion ended today so I had to quick get all the ones I want. Note that I need none whatsoever. I had a special shoe closet built (modest by The Real Housewives of Orange County standards) to hold all my Stubbs flats. The shelves are now piled two high. I bought five new pairs today, using the codeword SPRING for 30% off. You can't change your mind because they only give you store credit. Have you heard that since your mother bought your training bra from Martins? I should have called the plumber on the frozen pipe to my guest powder room but no-oo. Had to shop. Probably won't have any guests for awhile anyhow.

I've taken to speaking with the people I regularly encounter in the same manner that I spoke to strangers on the road. I am amazed to hear both people's reactions to my road trip and what they are interested in. Here, as on the road, people tell me they have always wanted to do that. I still can't figure out why they don't. A lot of people ask me if I am scared because I travel alone. No I'm not. I think what everyone is afraid of is being alone. Really being alone. I live by myself in the country. But I am not alone. I have the telephone and the TV. All the time. This whole other life jumps into the holes of my existence, and when I scrape that life out, I'm not sure what is left. I think there isn't a whole lot left. And that is sad. This introspect is dreary but it must be done.

This is Michael. Isn't he a doll?  Michael sells very expensive shoes at Neiman Marcus. Obviously, that is where we met. We talked for a lot longer than it takes to try on and buy expensive shoes. Michael thinks that Manolo Blahnik is a shoemaker first and a designer second. Christain Louboutin is a designer first and shoemaker second. I think people wear the Louboutins because of the red soles (they advertise the price more or less, like Jimmy Choo-choos). Oprah wears them. Michael says she only puts them on after she is seated. I believe it. Michael is from the Midwest. He suggests traveling there. I believe him. Michael is not the kind of guy who would send you to uninteresting places. His partner (husband? not sure if they tied the knot) is Asian and so will not travel in the south. I'm not sure I get it. I'll have to ask Michael to tell me more. This is very interesting. I will speak to very, very few people I met on the road ever again. I will make a concerted effort to do that here. This is the next thing for me I think.

I picked up the watch I left for a battery in the beginning of January. The diminutive Asian lady there wore one white cotton glove with which to pick up the gleaming timepieces from their cases. Before I left on my road trip, I purged my wallet of all that crap that you carry around and hardly ever use. You know, the grocery store bonus card, the ice cream card that they stamp every time you buy one and you get a free one after 10, the expired museum membership card, the old dry cleaning slips, the book of stamps that had stuck to the inside of your wallet and you can't use anyway, credit card receipts and your Costco card (although that's a pretty useful one).With my stripped-down wallet, I had no claim check for the watch. She brought it out and asked if it was the one. I think she should have asked me what it was and then brought it out. There is a guy in there in a white jacket, like a doctor's. I think he's the watch putter-togetherer. I had to fill out a long affidavit certifying that I am who I am.  And also that I will not sue them if the watch doesn't work anymore. It was $37.10. I paid cash. This caused a huge confusion because I don't think they have any cash there. My money went to the back room and I waited maybe ten minutes which is a long time. I spoke to the tall black man there while I was waiting. He wants to go on a road trip too. Oh, and I asked the lady about the Unclaimed Baggage watch. She said it is definitely worth much more than $20,000. Note to self: really try to find the $7,700 (they dropped the price by $200 today).

I also needed to get extra yarn for a project I've been working on for months. It is for my wicked step-mother and it has a picture of her plane on it. She just got a new one. I can't sew fast enough. Anyhow, I talked to the yarn store lady. Both of her children are at Hobart, not below the Mason Dixon (as I required for my son). One of them is happy go lucky like me. He has ADD which I think almost every boy has, give them recess already. Some kids at my kid's school got expelled for selling ADD drugs which are really amphetimines. They do this because school is such a bitch these days they have to stay up all night studying. It's a good thing my kid isn't much of a student. Anyhow, her son went with a friend to a ski house they have and got lost. He just went someplace else. My kinda guy.

My used to be best friend is moving to Wilmington NC. I think. I'm not certain because she's not my best friend anymore and I heard this from my current best friend. She (the mover) has the most incredible place here and a steady boyfriend. He is going to go too I think, but he does a lot of business up here and also has a house in Cape May and a loft in Manhattan. Why on earth is she moving there? Maybe no one listens to her.

Unloaded huge amount of crap from Woody. Need to sort through it. Found a whole lot of sticky Tootsie Pop sticks and some great art. I think I can live without Woody, but I don't think I can live without talking to people any more. Note to self: Read cover story in New York magazine about how we can't think because of all the stuff we take in. Also note to self: talk to enough people that I don't have to write this serious stuff much. Hurts my ears.