When you don't know who you are, even sitting alone in a room is an awkward social occasion. What could I possibly say to myself to break the ice? I ask myself if I'm having fun. I answer: How should I know? When I weigh my feelings I have my thumb on the scale. Therefore the ice doesn't break. Then again, I never understood that famous Kafka quotation, about how a book is an ax for the frozen sea within us. Why on earth would anyone want to break through the frozen sea? Your only hope of escape is to walk across the icy surface. If I had some common ground with myself I could at least make small talk. I'm not even a Venn diagram, there's no overlap between my loosely abutting shapes. The only things I know across the board are what turns me on and what scares me shitless. Efficiently, these are sometimes the same thing. No wonder I spend so much time in the bathroom. Still, not exactly ideal fodder for casual conversation. Unsurprisingly, I fail to establish a comfortable tone. I often have the impression that I've been shrieking, the way some people always suspect they smell bad. I frequently perceive my self-solicitude as unctuous. I don't mean to be rude but I'm afraid I don't understand what I'm saying.