Shamed

My friend, JMoney, shamed me (completely unconsciously) into writing in my blog again. And some thoughts have been rumbling in my brain, and now I will make absolutely no attempt to put them in any kind of order.

Lacunae. These are the spaces naturally present in a story, an argument, a relationship. Gaps, missing pieces of information. I like to think of them as tidal pools; accidentally caught between rocks, almost an afterthought, but more representative of the essence of the seaside than any ocean or beach could be. Tidal pools trap the small things, like crabs or starfish or guppies... seemingly picayune details when looked at in terms of the entire ocean, but when grouped together in a small pool, all of a sudden they take on a greater meaning. They become a microcosm, they become their own contained world.

I wonder what we could learn from, oh, let's say a relationship, because that's of course what's foremost in my thoughts, me being a single girl in my 30s, one who's apparently fond of commas and run-on sentences... anyway, what could we learn if we focused on the lacunae of a relationship. First of all, we'd have to define what the lacunae are. Are they the things unsaid? Or undone? Are the lacunae the mundane details of an established relationship? I'm going to choose unsaid, because it's the most intriguing option, and because I'm a fan of Pinter. Not really.

So things unsaid. The next question that needs to be answered: how do we know they're unsaid? Is it an unnatural pause (see Pinter) or is it represented in small talk? Because we all know that small talk is just thinly disguised tension. No one really wants to engage in small talk. They're just afraid to talk about what they're really thinking.

Yeah, let's say the lacunae is in the small talk. Let's say that when someone says "Did you hear there's a chance of rain on Thursday?", what they really mean is "oh my God, seriously, I need to rip off your clothes right now, because I'm Krakatoa, and you're the poor island villagers running for their lives." When someone says, "No, I thought it was sunshine for the rest of the week, they're actually saying "Back off, Koresh, or I'll blast 5,000 decibels of "Sweet Child of Mine" in your child-loving, cult-freaky ass."

I told you I wasn't actually going to organize my thoughts. Or even find meaning or logic in them, for that matter.

See ya.