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Annual Essay On Love before/after Ah yes, time for the annual essay on love. Sure, its been delinquent, piquant, dissolute and desultory at times, this essay. But there is something to be said for consistency, and even the most treacherous souls have that going for them if nothing else. Now for love. Everybody wants it. They long for it, go mad for want of it, a desperate tugging on the soul of every human that walks the face of mother earth, said to be lingering on unto souls who feet no longer touch the terra firma. They try to sell it, pacakage it however they may, camouflage fame or desire as love and pass it off by means of cheap whoring, either by madison avenue or honest street corner whores down the road from where you live. But the common denominator remains the same: everybody wants some. I noticed this when I played a video game recently. Video games are a pathetic past-time of no productivity, as wasteful in their own ways as drugs and alcohol, although strangely costing less, all result in tons of lost time. The Great Argentum has no time for such things, at least not anymore, but I did indulge recently. The story line of my game had conversational choices which caused another character in the game to fall in love with me. She fell for me in the most geeky unrealistic way possible, which suggests to me that geeks really don't get close to girls. Also she spouted cliches and told me she loved me after one kiss, which struck me as rather psycho. But it did highlight the notion for me that everyone wants love. After all, I'm sure there were plenty of nerds that bought this in search of the fabricated e-love in a video game. And everybody makes such bad decisions for it. Marc Antony lost an empire. But most decisions float down around the level of women in bars and nightclubs, desperately hoping the choice they made was a sound one, emotionally, economically, socially, and more often than not it isnt. Coupling up in the night making a beast with two back with a man who could care less. Or want to own. Guys giving their hearts to hardened whores with no money, people carving their chunks out of others hearts in the most onerous and cruel ways, striving hard, trying to make it work, trying to wrap a relationship around their issues, not realizing in the end that it won't work, and they will be unhappy. In the end, the trick is that you don't work for it, you look for it, and you find it or you don't. It permeates, its not pointillistic. You inhale it, you don't snort it. Its the warmth that keeps you from the cold, the shade from the hot sun, the shelter from the rain, and its there, consistent until you can't remember what it was like to not have it. And in some cases its wrenched from you, and you have to start all over again. But not from sqaure zero. As all the things happen and unfold the events conspire to nothing else but to teach us about ourselves the the existance of the universe, or lack thereof. Because consistently one thing in existance is always true: love is all there is. Love everyone, all you can. Happy Valentines Day.
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