I think I can just speak in measured sentences, calmly conveying the message, describing the situation, but every topic is so odd that I end up rushing the talk, and trying to cram in as many details as I can, hoping against all odds the person listening will stay with me. But the constant demonstration of the impossible gulf that lies between me and others, repeatedly fails to convince me, and I always just think, well–I muffed that delivery; and then I try to gather my strength for the next question that needs to be addressed, thinking this time I will speak in measured sentences, and calmly convey the message, describe the situation, marshal the facts. And sure, it seems like I never learn, and am always convicted of being overly enthusiastic. But I do learn this much, that I am able to note what always happens. And I resolve to convey that, that very frustration in all its character, in yet another occasion, in another form.  The very form of resolve itself, prepared for and delivered to an even more desperate audience.

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