i have been in love twice
which is significantly more than most people my age.
but one was the fleeting magical love that you know is pointless longing after and merely indulge yourself in when you're hungry.
and the other...oh the other.
they come back with that stupid masculine insight that they have no idea how to use and they pick up the phone and drag you, kicking and screaming, back into their world.
the bastards.
so i'm going to wrap the scarf you advised me to buy around my head, wrap it tight so it blocks out my eyes and ears and senses.
and lie down and stop breathing for a winter or so.
and wait for my ribs to cement and my lungs to seize up
and atrophy to set in whilst i wait for it to stop.
oh well.
jimmy pop is a guilty pleasure
probably because he's so filthy
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