Friday, February 14, 2020

Addicted to Love

Zoey, 1978

When I post this, it will be Valentine's Day.  I've always disliked the day.  When I was in elementary school, they had us make Valentine receptacles out of old shoe boxes.  We had to cover them in crepe paper and put pictures on them.  I was never very good at it.  Then we had to get Valentine cards and put them in our classmate's boxes.  It was always a terror for me as I was never sure how many I would get.  Poor Bebe Adams was semi-rxxxxxx (not a word you can say in this day and age), and she wouldn't get any.  Well, I always gave her one, but she never got many.  Everyone would get a bag of V-day cards from the Woolworth's store.  They were all the same.  There would be several really big ones and a bunch of regular sized ones.  You always had to think hard about who to give the big ones to.  Some boxes would be full (Susan Pleitchwaite's) and others not so much.  I hated the whole thing from start to finish.  I hated the little Valentine heart shaped candies, too.

I'm glad I don't have to go through any of that this year.  People may not understand that, but it is true.  I just can't stand it.

Q asked me today if I was an alcoholic yet.  Nope, I said.  I don't go to bars in the daytime. I figure that would be the hallmark.  Rather, I've been having wine with lunch after the gym and then not a drink until four or so.  But tonight, I had too much to drink between four and six.  I was sauced.  By seven I had eaten a delicious meal that I had cooked, and by seven-thirty, I was ready to head out the door.  I have been wanting to take night pictures.  Tonight, I thought, would be the time since I did nothing other than go to the gym all the live long day.  Maybe two things, or maybe three, but nothing really.  Sometime after dark, I put together a camera pack and headed out he door.

For the next two hours, I listened to a jazz program (link) and drove.  And stopped.  And shot.  It was very eerie, for I had driven far out of town.  Sometimes it was scary.  But it was fun, and I was full of energy.

I haven't looked at the pictures yet, and I don't want to tonight. Looking at them with an immediate memory would spoil them.  I want to wait and have some time to forget.  Maybe if I wait a week or two, they will look different.

But you may get one with this post if I decide to work on them tonight.

*.   *.   *.   

After I wrote that, I fell asleep.  I woke up an hour later, Rocky Road ice cream melted in a cup, neck crooked and kinked.  Maybe it is the couch that does it, but the room is too dark to stay awake.  And of course, there is the drinking.

Now it is the day itself, or an hour away from its dawning, anyway, and I have had a cup of coffee and have read the papers.  Today, I was happy to skip some of the stories in The NY Times, for I downgraded my subscription yesterday.  I had been paying FAR too much, and being a retiree who must watch his kopeks, I cancelled my subscription.  They didn't like that and gave me a better deal.  A really good one.  Now I don't feel guilty about not reading everything there.  And, of course, for the really good stories (link), I read CNN.

Thrifty.  Call me thrifty.

For all of you who want to understand Valentine's Day, I leave you with this from CNN.  It makes love perfectly clear.

"The brain seals the deal by releasing oxytocin, often called "the love hormone." It's a neuropeptide produced in the hypothalamus and secreted by the pituitary gland during times of intimacy, like hugging, breastfeeding and orgasm.

So hugging, kissing and love-making are all things you can continue to do to keep your brain on love."

So why'd they leave out breast feeding?


  1. Aw. I feel sad. (my turn to whine). I would really like to have someone to hug and kiss. that person being Tom.

    I used to love to "scrub" my fingers through his beard. And stick my fingers in his ears or suck his ear lobe when we were sitting around doing whatever it was we were doing - reading, talking, watching T.V. eating, all those very tender close things.

    Sigh. Ah well. A little weep -a good shot of remembrance pain and then one must buck up and carry on. What good does any of that other do in large doses.


    I've got a second lovely beer, a bag of excellent weed, a batch of infused brownies. Books, the Internet, my dogs, a fireplace a comfy couch.

    Here's a poem.

    Lisa says,
    once upon a time
    or not so long ago
    underneath the bridge
    Eratu used to call to you
    doesn't she do that anymore,
    the words sigh like a blue jay's cry
    won't she let you sing from underneath his wing?

    what's to breathe or leave behind
    what's the song that wasn't sung
    She's just the same as she ever was
    or will be,
    it's me that's changed,

    Knocked wood, kneaded clay
    tidied the pathway, swept the stairs
    till the words blurred
    and hurried off to the fair
    in somber pairs;

    Eratu peeks from behind her fan
    sees Lisa on the porch swing singing
    gathers her words
    and gives them to the next boy
    who hasn't learned about love.

    I used to bother him - all the time - to write poems. Sometimes he wrote some for me. Though sometimes he would say - "all my poems are for you because they are who I am and You - God know why - but you want this crazy, old, broke poet - so you've got all of me and that means my poems."

    Happy Valentine's Day, C.S.

    :F . <--- that translates to a flower. At least it did way back when, B.E.

  2. B.E.--Before Everything?

    Thanks for the vibes. V-Day is surely a time to remember. WTF is it with life, anyway, that we lose the things we want? There are no words, I've found, that really assuage loss. I used to think they would, but they don't.