Tuesday, March 14, 2006


Webster defines love as the following: “an intense feeling of deep affection. A deep romantic or sexual attraction to someone. A person or thing that loves.” Great! Now I get it. What if it’s the universe sending you the same lame postcard in the mail every single fucking day. What if it’s an emotional stocker of the subconscious mind? My love is not unlike the story of “the cat came back”. Kick it out, lock the doors; brick up the entrance…the cat came back. Drive it off in the middle of nowhere, blind fold it, tie it up, throw it into the depths of a bottomless pit…the cat came back. I’ve tried and tried and tried to get rid of it…but it won’t go anywhere. I’ve even tried NOT getting rid of it (as in the rule of polarities exemplified in the tao de ching)…still here. so maybe i should be defining love. i have to know better than webster right? here it goes: Love is the booger you just can’t flick. a cruel joke with an amazing punch line. a toy troll with a real dimond in it's navel. it's collecting those little peuter knights and wizards but not putting them on display. it's falling asleep to another chapter of "a clockwork orange" every night. it's wearing pajamas to work. A horrific accident on the highway that you drive by and resist the urge to look at. A beautiful day with the curtains pulled tight. Your favorite movie in a foreign language with chinese subtitles. The cutest baby you’ve ever seen getting eaten by a fluffy white rabbit. blasting alanis morrisette's "ironic" out the window of your car, singing every word and loving it. wearing adult dipers before needing them. love is making that chalkboard sound with your teeth instead of your fingernails. it's playing the piano with your ass. it's not telling anyone that "mac and me" is one of your all time favorite movies. it's taking someone elses medication and thinking "that probably wasn't a good idea". love is eating the black jelly beans at the home of a black person because you don't want to offened them...even though you really can't stand the taste. it's wearing new born puppies as shoes and going for a jog. A giant boat of sushi that gets dropped on the floor right before being served. love is having a funnybone that never feels weird after getting hit. it's having the same seamonkeys for 50 years...who actually wear crowns and live in those little castles. love is the family car getting sold for scrap. a poloriod stained yellow with age. A pet kawalla bear developing leprosy. smoking through the hole in your neck. riding a bike without tires. love is huffing gasoline not for the high, but because you genuinly like the smell of gasoline. love is spending a lifetime looking for the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow and actually finding it, only to realize that no one excepts "that kind of gold" as currancy anymore. love is throwing a hotdog down a hallway and finally getting the joke. love is why your knee flies up when the doctor hits it there. love is beautiful and i miss it when it's gone.

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