kerouac says

i'm on day two of not talking. my cold took a laryngitic turn, and i have no voice. i'm not one of those hypochondriac voice people who think they'll get nodes if they yell at a football game, but i've known enough people with serious vocal trouble to keep silent when all is not well in the throat region.

which is to say, i'm not worried, but i'm not talking. to anyone.

and i'm amazed at how peaceful it is. it's like i can hear my own voice inside my head. and every time i get worried about how i'm going to communicate something, i can just think: not talking. everything will have to work itself out, because i'm not talking.

news flash, i know, but: i don't really need to talk much at all.

this happened a little bit when i was travelling alone in europe. i remember thinking if i ever had a novel to finish, i'd go back to granada because i know enough spanish to rent an apartment but not enough to go to the movies or discuss politics.

i should do this more often.

i'm looking forward to being able to talk--i missed my first planned rehearsal for my solo show yesterday, because of my mutedness--but this has been . . .

educational.

i must shut up.

more often.