03 October 2009
As it happened, the man next door and I made eye contact as I stood with coffee and cigarette on the balcony the morning before I left Boston. He had worked really hard the previous day removing the tree roots exposed at last after his years of raking the ground.
The reports I'd been given were wrong: he's only been raking his yard since last year. He's creating a memorial garden for his deceased mother. He wants to grow roses. Maybe the absence of grass or lawn is good for roses?
My understanding of the term is incomplete but I would describe his speech as "pressured", i.e., he says more than the conversation requires, as his mind free associates among the warehouse of data in his head, repeating certain phrases and rambling somewhat from topic to topic. I talk that way, too, sometimes. It leaves one feeling purged, like after a vomit, but, for me, accompanied by much less physical discomfort.
posted at 8:46 AM