Marrying George Clooney

last night a lively discussion took place at a dinner party at our friends house.
pre-dinner. we were in the cheese & wine & appetizer phase.
a bunch of interesting conversations took place: art, photography, families, being a vegan (not a topic i involve myself in), the falling in love with another woman vs. the stay with the wife you no longer love topic came up (which was quite the interesting conversation piece), and my favorite conversation:
having spent 27 years in solitary confinement in the marion prison (yes, same prison that gotti was in) the guy/inmate talked about how he crochets and does yoga on a daily basis and has numerous conversations in HIS HEAD. hmmm. that’s a shock. the crocheting and yoga i can understand — but the internal 24/7 back and forth in the head i can’t relate to (joking….), and my guess, pretty soon, because this has become a hot topic news item, my guess, his crocheted hats and doilies will be sold online and he will become a multi millionaire, and then eventually, when he dies, he will have left his entire fortune to the prison, which in turn will become a condo and his 10 X 10 cell will sell for a record 2.5 million…
but i digress.
this led to the topic of being in your own head for any amount of time (let alone 27 years).

as a writer i am in my head all the time. i could actually have myself arrested for verbal abuse.  but that’s another day, another blog….

ken was out snow shoveling the other day (as you all now know) and what started out as a couple of very simple conversations slash dialogues in his own head, turned into a (make-believe) violent boxing match by the time he was finished shoveling.
many things were floating through – one was a relationship he has with someone that makes him feel very sad and unsettled and at odds with himself, so he played that one over and over and over until both parties not only cried uncle, but were thrown into solitary with the crocheting, yoga guy. the other disagreement he had with himself was about getting in touch with the plow guy who promised he would be here, but never showed up, so ken was having an internal disagreement with the said plow-guy, “you said you’d be here by 3,” “I said i’d try and be there by 3,” “liar. you said 3,” “fuck you. i said maybe MAYBE 3,” until the plow-guy in ken’s mind plowed over ken. and another internal dialogue … we’re in the process of trying to do a renovation, adding a dining room. so we have x amount of money that we’re willing to spend for this addition. to me it seems like a substantial amount of dough. enough to build a dining room AND have a private chef. but then again, i’m a bit of a dreamer. i still think i can go to the post ranch for 200 bucks a night. hmmm. so frickin’ deluded.
so there was my ken, unbeknownst to me, having the battle of his life in his own head. back and forth back and forth…
and by the time he came into the house i asked him what was up since he looked a bit disheveled, and he said he had had so many disagreements and felt so completely frustrated and friendless, that’s he’s thoroughly exhausted and needs to nap.

why oh why oh why do we do this shit to ourselves? has anyone ever had a dialogue that went like this:

“hey, how you doing?”
“good. good. and you?”
“fabulous.”
“well, you look fabulous. rested, happy… i’m so glad i live in your head.”
“me, too! i never feel alone with you. let’s kiss.”

but then again, that would be so boring.