Tired, tired. For no reason, i've done gaff all all day. So i'm gonna blog a bit, coz it's only 10.03, not really bed time yet. The other day i complained about sensitive teeth since which time they haven't been. It occurs to me to try this with something more serious - the traumatic event of social awfulness that has (arguably) determined the course of much of my life. There were a group of us. I was about 10 maybe. I was more or less the leader of this group, joint oldest, good at sport, clever etc. We were sitting about. Previously one of the members of the group had said something about boats. I can't remember what it was, but I seem to recall it was sexual (interestingly enough I just learnt that a ship is a symbol for the female pudendissimum). I attempted to make a joke about his remark. No-one got it. Because it was related to something sexual, and I was bashful, I attempted to skirt around the topic. People urged me to explain, but I didn't. In attendance were our older neighbour, to whom I looked up to. I remember him laughing incomprehendingly, and his brother came along, and he did to. I can still in fact remember his laughing face. It wasn't by any means cruel laughter; it was simply incomprehending (is this even a word?). I remember my face burning.
That face burning feeling behind ( i use this again; it's a wireism meaning on account of) saying something that isn't understood is, I think, always burned into my mind. And it perpetuates itself - so anxious am I before saying something, so torn, it rather falls out of my mouth like fish flopping out of the trouser leg of a man who fell in a river, falteringly and stutteringly.
Is this an honest account? Will I see any improvement?
i.e. This happened; Can i put it behind me. It has indeed concretized into a personality trait; i view myself thus and project my self-understanding outwards, and accordingly in due course people do indeed come to understand me thus. Is writing dynamite?