I remember the first time I witnessed a man talking on a phone headset. It was in the late 90s, and the headset was one of the dangly things you might not see. I didn’t. This was a pretty young guy, and he was my boss, so I stood away from him, out of earshot lest he humiliate himself when he realizes an employee has caught him behaving like an old man. When it finally dawned on me he was on the phone, I was disappointed. I was in my late 50s at the time and I did a lot of talking to myself.

I picture my mother, when she was in her 70s, forming words. I can hear the light whistling sounds. Getting closer to her, I can hear the words. “Dorothy would wonder what I’m up to about now.” “It’s getting late and I need to find that book.” “Frank, it’s just what he wants to do.”

I do it constantly. In fact, five seconds ago, I formed the words, “I do it constantly.” I felt my lips move, and heard myself say the words. I don’t mind because I consider myself good company. I just don’t like the idea of others noticing. If they’re like me, they’ll feel superior to me, and fuck that.

I noticed it today at the VA. Lots of men my age and older. Talking to themselves. Interviewing themselves. Not appearing to give a damn. I’m not at the don’t-give-a-damn stage yet. I’m thinking I have a year and a half.

I googled “talking to oneself” and came upon an article on eHow, “How to stop talking to yourself.” It was a short piece, just five numbered suggestions long. Basically, five different ways to monitor yourself or have a family member do it for you. It emphasized that it would take practice. Just knowing there are people in the world willing to practice something so unrewarding made me a little sick for mankind.

These are all the thoughts I have on the subject right now. My lips are tired. (This article available on audio).