I have lost my mojo.
It started about the time I quit smoking, so I always joke that if you gave me a cig, I’d talk your ear [edit: that should be “your shirt”] off while attempting to sell you your own shirt back to you. Or: I blame it on the lack of a smoke, anyway. Either way, it feels like something about smoking made it easier to talk to people.
My other jest: if you put me in front of a microphone and expect me to give a presentation, hand me a guitar as well and I’ll knock it out of the park. It’s more lie than reality, but I could probably give better presentations with a guitar in hand.
Now I fumble over the simplest chatter.
Was it that cigarette? Or was it just having a prop in my hands? A drag on the cigarette as a visual semicolon, gathering my next words before speaking with dramatic tension built up before the exhale and finishing my thought?
Or was it something that helped me focus? I’ll admit my mind is a restless thing, that smalltalk tends to make it wander. I’ve not made it a secret that I’m impatient with extended smalltalk. Was smoking what made it easier to keep my mind on track for social niceties?
Perhaps I should try holding a pen when I go to social gatherings. A toothpick? A fidget toy in my pocket — only someone is apt to notice the movement and think you are diddling yourself…
If I could only manage to avoid putting my foot in my mouth for an hour and then never managing to extract it, but just switch the position as I blush more an more with it sitting there for all to see. Ha ha ha. Ugh.
I’m still one-day-at-a-time with the smokes after well over a decade. I might be an alcoholic still, but I rarely think about finding a drink after roughly the same amount of time. It’s all: Smoke smoke smoke, how can I justify a smoke?
Maybe that’s all this really is, if I’m honest with myself. An excuse looking for a problem.
Maybe all I really need is some more practice being social. Shudder.
Maybe not.
But, man, I do miss that little extra bit of income from selling shirts.