Stop Talking to Me
Do not go to San Diego in search of solitude.
Not that that’s why I came here. I don’t really know why I came here.
But lets say you wanted to sit somewhere and quietly think about why you were there. Make sure you’re not in San Diego when you feel like doing that. The people here are way too outgoing to let it happen.
I say outgoing, not friendly. Friendly, to me, means “behaving as a friend would.” We have that in Toronto and Montreal and Boston and Philly and Halifax. You need something, you ask a stranger for help and more often than not, help is granted as it would be to a friend. What San Diego has is: you’re waiting for the bus, for your order, for the traffic light, or sitting in a cafe or a park, and strangers walk up to you, sit right down, and engage in an hour of inescapable small talk. It’s wonderful. You get to meet all kinds of people, hear their stories, they’re interested in you…
AND IT’S DRIVING ME CRAZY.
Peace, my brothers and sisters. As in peace and quiet. I’m good with you. You’re good with me. We can enjoy the sunshine together in comfortable silence.
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