02-14-2007
Ice Cold Bitch(Or Happy 3rd Annual Dead Flower Day!)
I’m back! For one post anyway, I simply couldn’t let Dead Flower Day 2007 pass without an appropriate amount of snark and bitterness. I’m hopeful that regularly scheduled blog things will resume soon, but realistically, that won’t happen until I graduate or give up on school.
The timely meteorological madness which has lately pounded the city serves as a perfect metaphor for what could only ironically be called my “love life” over the past year. First, the temperature has barely reached above freezing for WEEKS. Then the wind began to howl. Then snow begat snow which begat snow, each layer barely touched by human hand freezing into an additional obstacle or nuisance for The Cripple. In fact, come to think of it, were my life a novel, the whole sorry situation would be derided by mid-level literature class as cheap and obvious. The last year or so of my romantic existence was deftly sumerized in emoesqe fashion: “We’ve Got Salt. We’ve Got Wounds. Let’s go!”
The problem with Valentine’s Day (note that among my kind, the phrase is not so much spoken as spat) is not that it commercializes romantic notions (yay Capitalism), but that it idealizes and idolizes them. For one day of the year(though it rapidly has become less of a “day” and more of a “season”), the American people are more polarized than any political issue, any murderous minor celebrity, any weapons of mass destruction could make them. The haves and the have-nots. Us and Them. Those who get fucked and those who get, err fucked. Relationships die and are born, are celebrated and mourned.
The interesting thing about this fundamental annual conflict is that almost everyone wants to be on a single side. Come this time next year, willing turncoats shall abound. Though some, in a bizarre display of lonely or lovelorn bravado, may proudly wallow in there misery, I would gladly betray my one-time compatriots to find a battle of a different and much more protracted kind. Those who would past that up because it’s such a long hard road are missing the point. Because if Veronica Mars teaches us anything it’s that relationships ought to be epic as in “Spanning years, and continents. Lives ruined and blood shed. Epic!” because “No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.”
For now, I’ll just retreat under the guise of the cool darkness the city has so generously provided. Nursing my (mainly self-inflicted) wounds, I'’ll choose want I find to be the most effective hollow platitude, perhaps “maybe next year”
Happy Dead Flower Day. May love save us all (or kill us quickly).
Previously
Previously Previously
-CI
postscriptum: This post also more or less marks the 2nd anniversary of this blog. Thanks to all five of you who’ve been along for the ride at various points so far. Things will get more interesting at some vaguely indeterminate point in the future.
