27 01 24

Shame-spot : being someone who spoke free­ly, copious­ly, and pas­sio­na­te­ly in high school, then arri­ving in col­lege and rea­li­zing I was in dan­ger of beco­ming one of those people who makes eve­ryone else roll their eyes : there she goes again. It took some time and trouble, but even­tual­ly I lear­ned to stop tal­king, to be (imper­so­nate, real­ly) an obser­ver. This imper­so­na­tion led me to write an enor­mous amount in the mar­gins of my note­books— mar­gi­na­lia I would later mine to make poems.

Forcing myself to shut up, pou­ring lan­guage onto paper ins­tead : this became a habit. But now I’ve retur­ned to copious spea­king as well, in the form of tea­ching.

Sometimes, when I’m tea­ching, when I inter­ject a com­ment without anyone cal­ling on me, without caring that I just spoke a moment before, or when I inter­rupt someone to redi­rect the conver­sa­tion away from an eddy I per­so­nal­ly find fruit­less, I feel high on the know­ledge that I can talk as much as I want to, as qui­ck­ly as I want to, in any direc­tion that I want to, without anyone overt­ly rol­ling her eyes at me or sug­ges­ting I go to speech the­ra­py. I’m not saying this is good peda­go­gy. I am saying that its plea­sures are deep.

The Argonauts
Graywolf Press 2015