Being in Love is a Cunt
If I fell in love tomorrow, I'd feel positively blasphemous posting on here (although I might still read).
I don't believe in true love. True love is something that happens to people who carry clichés between their teeth. Frankly, I'd rather see a dog with my grandfather's jawbone splintering between it's teeth than listen to guppy-eyed panheads frothing about the state of their fluttering hearts.
It's for stupid people. Stupid people believe in God, they believe in politicians, democracy, truth. I put love in this category, although it's probably more commercially successful than any of those concepts, as it's behind quite a few of those stupid things we call 'ideologies'.
A lot of the things that people seem to call love can be easily be reclassified. Pining after your lover when they're gone = loneliness. There are a million things you can put in your head that will displace that feeling of loneliness - porn being the most obvious, but see here for more suggestions.
Similarly, anyone who exhibits self-destructive tendencies when in a relationship doesn't do so because of the effect their 'lover' (I mean 'designated fuck', à la Linda Fiorentino) has on them. The tendencies are inherent, within the body of the exhibitionist, childhood trauma, general abandonment issues, whatever the fuck psychology you want to call it.
So why, after all this, do I say 'I love you' to my girlfriend in several different languages, every day?
Aristotelian principles of accidence and substance; Eucharist debate over transubstantiation; metaphor vs. physicality. I hope she fucking buys it.
Love is not some force in the world, cruising red light districts with a steel-handled ice-pick (he must have upgraded from a fucking bow and arrow by now, the little cunt), looking for the next available victim.
No, the steel handled ice-pick is what'll happen to my girlfriend if I find out she's cheated on me (metaphorically, in case the police are reading). Not because I love her, but because I have jealousy and control issues, brought about by the conditioning of my experience in the world. These are factors I impose on the body, in the mind, in the interpretation of actions and language used by the one I designate as my fuck.
If you like, call it love, but I'll go with the community consensus and call it a cunt.
I don't believe in true love. True love is something that happens to people who carry clichés between their teeth. Frankly, I'd rather see a dog with my grandfather's jawbone splintering between it's teeth than listen to guppy-eyed panheads frothing about the state of their fluttering hearts.
It's for stupid people. Stupid people believe in God, they believe in politicians, democracy, truth. I put love in this category, although it's probably more commercially successful than any of those concepts, as it's behind quite a few of those stupid things we call 'ideologies'.
A lot of the things that people seem to call love can be easily be reclassified. Pining after your lover when they're gone = loneliness. There are a million things you can put in your head that will displace that feeling of loneliness - porn being the most obvious, but see here for more suggestions.
Similarly, anyone who exhibits self-destructive tendencies when in a relationship doesn't do so because of the effect their 'lover' (I mean 'designated fuck', à la Linda Fiorentino) has on them. The tendencies are inherent, within the body of the exhibitionist, childhood trauma, general abandonment issues, whatever the fuck psychology you want to call it.
So why, after all this, do I say 'I love you' to my girlfriend in several different languages, every day?
Aristotelian principles of accidence and substance; Eucharist debate over transubstantiation; metaphor vs. physicality. I hope she fucking buys it.
Love is not some force in the world, cruising red light districts with a steel-handled ice-pick (he must have upgraded from a fucking bow and arrow by now, the little cunt), looking for the next available victim.
No, the steel handled ice-pick is what'll happen to my girlfriend if I find out she's cheated on me (metaphorically, in case the police are reading). Not because I love her, but because I have jealousy and control issues, brought about by the conditioning of my experience in the world. These are factors I impose on the body, in the mind, in the interpretation of actions and language used by the one I designate as my fuck.
If you like, call it love, but I'll go with the community consensus and call it a cunt.
posted by Anonymous | 6:03 pm
