1138: Had
this thought while either cleaning up from breakfast or making breakfast . . . at a
minimum, I was in the kitchen. . .
While speaking, while interacting, and/or while trying to influence others via speech, I had a mini-ephinpy regarding words. At times, one can lash out words of love (intimate moments) or words of angst (Please stop yelling! (ironic, isn't it?)). And those words usually do indeed communicate one's feelings and usually also do indeed communicate them efficiently.
But, I'd imagine that although one's lover might quite like to hear "instant feedback", I'm guessing that words before the candlelight, before the glass of wine, before the silk, before the sheets might - just might - stick a little better. Might enhance the memory. Might make the day or the date or the evening.
In an earlier tweet, I characterized the words said in an intense moment as words from a microwave - ultra fast with little more thought than "how many seconds do I type in the key pad."
But those thoughts that simmer - those thoughts that are with you throughout the day, that cause one to lose a step while pacing along, that cause one to forget to breathe, that cause one's heart to race. Those are the thoughts that not only simmer and steam. They stick. Those are the thoughts that are made over and over in one's mind while the day progresses. They start at 5:30am - they begin to thaw. By 9am, they are unfrozen and malleable. Soon enough it is 11am and they enter the crock pot of one's mind.
Now, just like the chili powder, oregeno, and [what are those other amazing, stomach-acid creating smells?] the room of our minds are being driven a little crazy by the smells, the stewing and intermingling of thoughts, heat applied to and permeated through fibers of our mind and of our being.
3 and 4 pm roll around and thankfully there is some distraction of kids returning from school. Distrcation from the aromas, the pondering of the dinner, the processing of the thoughts, the creation of words.
Dinner time - 6pm. But still it is time for feeding only the body. Those thoughts that have been simmering all day are still there. They know that they are not just the dessert, but the coup de grâce of the meal and the crème de la crème.
After the kids are in bed, after the dog is outside. The words begin - initially softly spoken in short sentences. The words that began the pondered journey at 5:30am. The words that have emotions stewed throughout each vowel and constant. The words that are connected by (well) literally spaces, but also connected by perfectly timed pauses, by glorious sideways non-verbal glances, by eyes with pupils that are jet-black and open, by the warmth of a hand that one can feel prior to skin-to-skin contact.
And then as the evening progresses, as the night progresses more words are said. More words that have been inside all day, more words that have been stirred, sampled, and re-coverd until they can be passed through the air to the perfect audience - to the perfectly choosen ears to say nourishing things that most definitely can and will be repeated, but never, never will have the same meaning as they do the first time that they are uttered.
Ultimately,
these wonderful to say and wonderful to hear words simmering all day, uttered
with so much preparation, so much care may well lead to some
utterances - the exact same previously mentioned microwaved words.
But now, alas, those microwaved words are lathered in, absorbed by and flavored with the simmered words so that they now too, will stick, and cause smiles, and knowing glances, and inside jokes that a microwave by itself Just Cannot Do.