in defense of the heedful.
Jim Webb's only been in office for a term, and it shows--he still has an ability to think through issues.
In the June 26 NYRB, Republican Chuck Hagel remarks on the Virginia Senator :
"He questions, he probes, he thinks through the consequences--we almost never do. We take an action--like going to war--without thinking. He listens."
Reminds me of this friend I once had. We'd hang out for an hour, and he wouldn't say a thing. We met at a local show. I liked him because he was dark around the eyes, and in that room where he was taking care of the music, he didn't seem interested in anyone who approached him.
When we hung out he would act nervous and intrusively shy. But then he'd speak. And whenever he would, he'd say these profound things. I hung out with him more just out of the sheer joy of waiting for him to open his mouth. Also good was driving around with him after sunset, because we could always hear the sounds of night through our open windows. He'd never want music playing or anything. He wouldn't want to discuss this or that personal pain. We'd just drive in silence and we could hear the crickets and the solitary car moving across open country road, balmy breeze in the face.
Many years ago, hanging out with this guy would have made me way tense. But then I moved to New York, where sometimes I'd be in a room with six or ten people I didn't know, all of whom I really wanted to know, but with whom I understood I could not speak unless I had something important to say.
People talk all the time, especially to their elders, and it's completely meaningless stuff just coming out without limitation. It's often a mixture of nerves and personal uncertainty. Most of the time, if you listen, you hear a cacophony of self-deprecation and self-importance. So to make an impression, I knew I would have to engage. And that was okay, I could do that, and I wanted to tell every loose-lipped stranger I'd ever met: So Could They.
After reading Emily Gould's piece in the NYT Magazine a few weeks ago (which I won't bring up again), I've done a lot of thinking about what it means to think before you speak. I decided the point of speaking at all is to connect with someone, right? to convey meaning, to engage two or more brains. But conversation is like a car, and that's why we'd--my friend and I--sometimes drive in silence. Like a car, you get inside for a purpose--you're hoping to move somewhere. If you haven't got something to say just then to propel you, or if you can't make conversation move you both beyond where you started, then turn off the engine and get out.
Quick. You can't afford to waste gas.
In the June 26 NYRB, Republican Chuck Hagel remarks on the Virginia Senator :
"He questions, he probes, he thinks through the consequences--we almost never do. We take an action--like going to war--without thinking. He listens."
Reminds me of this friend I once had. We'd hang out for an hour, and he wouldn't say a thing. We met at a local show. I liked him because he was dark around the eyes, and in that room where he was taking care of the music, he didn't seem interested in anyone who approached him.
When we hung out he would act nervous and intrusively shy. But then he'd speak. And whenever he would, he'd say these profound things. I hung out with him more just out of the sheer joy of waiting for him to open his mouth. Also good was driving around with him after sunset, because we could always hear the sounds of night through our open windows. He'd never want music playing or anything. He wouldn't want to discuss this or that personal pain. We'd just drive in silence and we could hear the crickets and the solitary car moving across open country road, balmy breeze in the face.
Many years ago, hanging out with this guy would have made me way tense. But then I moved to New York, where sometimes I'd be in a room with six or ten people I didn't know, all of whom I really wanted to know, but with whom I understood I could not speak unless I had something important to say.
People talk all the time, especially to their elders, and it's completely meaningless stuff just coming out without limitation. It's often a mixture of nerves and personal uncertainty. Most of the time, if you listen, you hear a cacophony of self-deprecation and self-importance. So to make an impression, I knew I would have to engage. And that was okay, I could do that, and I wanted to tell every loose-lipped stranger I'd ever met: So Could They.
After reading Emily Gould's piece in the NYT Magazine a few weeks ago (which I won't bring up again), I've done a lot of thinking about what it means to think before you speak. I decided the point of speaking at all is to connect with someone, right? to convey meaning, to engage two or more brains. But conversation is like a car, and that's why we'd--my friend and I--sometimes drive in silence. Like a car, you get inside for a purpose--you're hoping to move somewhere. If you haven't got something to say just then to propel you, or if you can't make conversation move you both beyond where you started, then turn off the engine and get out.
Quick. You can't afford to waste gas.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home