Night Talker

October 11, 2016

Yujing, Tainan (South Taiwan)

As I listen to him speak, I lose focus on the actual content. I abandon any attempt at all of contemplating, challenging, let alone entertaining his logic and rational. Initially a casual conversation about “anger” has suddenly morphed into something greater, not necessarily better. The big ideas of mysticism, paganism, murder, and even the “n word” soon became integrated into his answer. An answer for what was originally a simple, thoughtful, yet seemingly benign question: “when is the last time you felt genuine anger?”

I continue to listen. All my mind can process is just sound. The genuine passion for whatever he is talking about is all that keeps me engaged in the conversation, if you can even call it that. Just a series of socially-antidotal chuckles, half-assed grins, and a plentitude of timely head nods allow me to seem, on the surface at least, genuinely invested in hearing what he has to say. But I’m not.

And it’s not that I don’t want to chime in or be engaged. It’s also not that I think his conversational dominance is a hindrance or barrier for any outsider contribution. And alas, it’s not that there’s any trace of selfishness or egoism to the extent that he has naturally become possessive of the “magic conch.” It’s simply because I can’t engage. I want to, but I just can’t add any thing of substance to the conversation that will at the very least further the conversation.

As he continues describing the variety of different anime he has read, I try to gather my thoughts and communicate something of any objective or even subjective worth. But I can’t. He begins categorizing his vast knowledge of anime by time period of publication, progressional pattern of stylistic narration in terms of mood, and finally, touches upon the animes’ different philosophical ideologies on artificial intelligence. And the thing about him is he speaks with so much material-abundance, innate fervor, and direction or lack thereof (for my train of thought at least), not to flaunt his excess of knowledge or to feed any ego-driven complexes, but rather, because he enjoys it and he can do it so damn well…

He’s someone who dedicates the vast majority of the daytime focused on objectivity, internalized inquiry, and a focused thought-scheme. But it’s when the moon scales the night sky his tamed internal investigations from the day become an overwhelming eruption of cognitive stamina and grace. An infintely living flame that fills the timid room with an oppulence of light, warmth, and unassuming fire.

He is the ultimate night-talker. One who can speak hours into the night without the slightest awareness of needed sleep or the infant Suns ascent. But for now he is asleep, so I must take the opportunity to sleep too.

Goodnight.