Where have all the good conversations gone?
Perhaps it is mere delusion, but I seem to recall a time when life was filled with good conversation. The kind of talks in which minutes melted into hours and each comment brought forth an unending flow of interesting ideas. Now, I mostly can’t wait for the talking to end and for the echo of the words to melt into silence.
For a time I thought it was the dizzying pace of social commentary. Logout for 5 minutes and a notification panel becomes choked with notices. But I discarded that notion as at other times the wires and channels were abuzz with topics of interest.
Rather, the reality is dawning that the problem is the circular nature of so much dialogue these days. A topic is aired, given a good walk, taken around the block again for good measure and then harnessed to a treadmill for another thirty days. Little wonder it becomes tired, hackneyed and in need of rest.
To that end, I am devoting the balance of these 100 days to pastures new. To take a fresh idea for a walk each day, one which is found on the road less travelled. It will prove very frustrating for my daily interlocutors who may bridle at my moving on from that which isn’t yet talked out. But I think it will both help the quality of my writing, my conversation and the little bit of this globe I call home.
Good night and good luck.