Narcist, Narcisisist, Narcisisomething

San Geraldo shared with me a conversation he had the other day. He had been explaining why he was having such a hard time committing to his Spanish language studies. As he told it, he loves to talk. He enjoys in-depth, substantive conversation. Since his Spanish skills are so limited, he continued, he can’t possibly carry on an intelligent conversation filled with the grammar and nuance he’s so used to. I understood but didn’t tell him I thought it was all a bunch of hooey.

Then, on another subject, San Geraldo said he thought the mother of a friend of ours was a complete narcist.

“A what?” I asked (imagine my grin).

ROUGHING IT WHILE WE ESCAPE THE HOME RENOVATIONS.
SPANISH COFFEE AND HIGH-BROW CONVERSATION.

“A narcist… narcist… narcisisi….” San Geraldo tried again.

“Narcisist,” I said. “And you don’t think your Spanish will ever be as good?”

“That’s it!” he exclaimed. “I can’t study Spanish because I still haven’t perfected English!”

HEADING HOME FOR SOME MORE DEEPLY SATISFYING CONVERSATION.

Author: Moving with Mitchell

From Brooklyn, New York; to North Massapequa; back to Brooklyn; Brockport, New York; back to Brooklyn... To Boston, Massachusetts, where I met Jerry... To Marina del Rey, California; Washington, DC; New Haven and Guilford, Connecticut; San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs, and Santa Barbara, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; Irvine, California; Sevilla, Spain. And Fuengirola, Málaga..

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