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the story of love 5/29/01
"i love him, but it's just such a drag every time i see him these days," she says.

the jilted lover huffs, pacing, in another room, one hand on head, other a fist, "i've only ever loved her."

so goes the story of love.  impending ending a tiger at the edge of the fire, just waiting, but sure.  you love, then one hates and the other obsesses.  then everybody destroys everybody with the best of intentions.  excuse me, but that's my severed head you're holding.  psychocircumcision.  psychocircumschism, even.  a circle cut out of you, and you don't know if you're the inside or the outside.  an inchworm, split.  inchwormness in ones and twos, or wholes and halves.  one falls into two.  sometimes bounces back.  boing.  what are you, you ask in shock and horror of yourself, involuntarily.  voices come to you.  they accuse you.  they know you.  you are these voices, which are always already spoken.  how not to listen to yourself.  how absurd to be a being which does not listen to itself.  there are nervous tics on the serene grinning idiot face you wear.  tremulous fissures.  volcanic eruptions of nonsense, logomachy of ambivalence.  belief, disbelief, never indifference.  you're in love with or hate every thing in the universe, seen and unseen, there and not, and always both.  it's a precariously balanced equation.  and you always seem to come out on the losing end.

you want.  you want.  you want .  what?  there is a something out there, in relation to which your words are not.  therefore shut thy fucking mouth.  oh but i percieve so many uttering tongues, on the walls of your mind, cacophony of meaning.  it’s caca, ya phoney.  you're a phoney if you try to keep them out and you're a phoney if you pretend to understand them.  you're just fucking phoney, so shut the fuck up.  phoney dork.


but you’ve only ever loved, you cry.  why does your smile always invite a slap.  you are kind, you are tender, you are a creature of light and love.  but you eat your progeny.  “i love you so goddamn motherfucking much, i wanna make you so happy you fucking explode.  the heat of my passion will inflame you like a dry leaf in a kiln.  i wanna shower you with flowers, 12 tons of flowers.  blow you a kiss at 120 m.p.h.  hug you so hard you split in half.  eat your pussy, completely, with a steak knife.  make a smile stretch across your face until the top of your head falls off like a soft boiled egg cracked open.”  oh, you’re a lover alright.  love love love.  happy motherfucking love.  hooray.

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NEXT TUESDAY: elmo fuddpucker, urban pirate