Blithering Idocy
@ flay | Friday, Feb 26, 2021 | 2 minutes read | Update at Friday, Feb 26, 2021

Listening To: Miss Grit - Talk Talk

It is funny how life runs in cycles. Or not so funny in this case.

When I was a teen, I had difficulty speaking to people I was attracted to. As the years flew by it just became uncomfortable at first, and was over with quickly. Then the issue diminished to an occasional minor inconvenience (learning to breathe properly helped).

Perhaps it’s the pandemic stress, but it’s back again. Not that I can’t speak, I have no problems actually creating words, but instead of a witty wisecrack or something urbane:

I heave up total garbage. It just spills out of my mouth. The slightest bit of anxiety and I become a blithering idiot.

Which has proved rather inconvenient of late. There is somebody I see a few times a week who qualifies as “very attractive”. Not just in looks but in style and mannerisms. We had regular eye contact, a brief civilised conversation, then I went and fucked it all up. Nothing came out as it was in my head. Like my mouth was a separate entity operating with it’s own diabolical agenda.

I’ve looked it up: social anxiety disorder. Which I’m assuming is on some sort of spectrum because none of the other symptoms apply. There is some sort of saying akin to: “Inside every man, there is a 13 year old boy”. Hopefully that youth fucks off back into my subconscious sooner rather than later.

Stoopid Brain. No cookie!

About Me

A dorky artist living in Vancouver, BC.





2 x 3 =

6 x 0 =

2 x 2 =

2 x 3 + 1 =

1 x 2 =

1 + 2 =

2 + 2 + 1 =

1 + 1 + 1 =

5 - 2 =

12 - 8 =


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