I’m a media darling. (Snort.)
Reblog. Plus commentary.
Ditto. Plus more commentary and backstory.
Not that you want to read all of that about me me me. I just thought I would point out how I appeared, for a few hours, to be relatively intelligent.
Because at 11am I ruined it all.
Basically, I should never be allowed to talk to anyone. The only reason I sounded coherent in those posts above is because I wrote it all out. In a series of emails. With time to think about my responses, to be smithy and blithe with the words. Apparently, it’s the only way I can do it. Apparently, I should probably duct tape over my mouth, and carry a slate and chalk around my neck.
So here’s what happened at 11. A lady came by to record a podcast with me. We recorded it. And it will be posted at some point. On an internet address. More information than that you shall never get. You know why? Because the entire time I was talking - babbling, more like - I was floating above myself, listening to the crap I was saying, thinking: shut up. shut up. shut up.
I have no verbal grace, no poise. I say, unhhhh, probably 30 times. There were palpable pauses as I grappled for words. I got more high pitched and whiny and nasal as the minutes ticked by. I may have swore. I’m sure I offended three or four people.
And now, in order to kick me when I’m down, I have to go home and take a picture of myself to post with the podcast, so I won’t even be anonymous. People are going to egg me as I walk through the halls. Perhaps I’ll just give her a photo of Ferdinand. People seem to like what he has to say.
