i like
Will Ceurvels
June 6, 2003
Love
Oxytocin
Love is illogical and unnecessary. Some would say we’d be better off without love, that our love of power, our love of material things is the source of hunger, war [google: grenade love triangle], depravation and all sorts of wild social afflictions. But being animals of transience, it is love that sustains us. Our lives erupt like fireworks, and just as quickly fade into something unmemorable. But love is times leash, and the salacious and maternal gods give us a tug ever so slightly so that we may have time to look around and rejoice, though there may be nothing to celebrate. Love is our favorite frame of reference. I stand 40 feet from something I love, and between us lay the rankest and the most mundane, but it is with pleasure that I traverse, and with intrigue that I do sniff the most fetid. Love savors sweat and hair and foulness and beauty and anything that we exude as humans may be encompassed by love. If you listen carefully, you’ll find love playing in the background when the corporeal and ethereal have their dance. There is nothing like love pulsing through ones veins and coatings one senses with chocolate, because love is candy incarnate. Let us taste love, because it too is transient in its existence, but its scent lives on. I can tell because the Earth smells and the scientists smell it too, but with all the technology in the world all they can find for love is a simple chemical and we all know, we all hope, that love cannot be bottled. I sometimes think of love as the joyful acceptance of assimilation, that when two lovers lock eyes it is because they have acknowledged once and for all that they are innately the same thing; that, for all their tries at self-expression, it is in similitude that they ultimately find the highest gratification. We need love, especially we cerebrals, because it reminds us of the importance of mindlessness, of chaos amidst our self-imposed rules. But I cannot define love and know not why I try. I shall tarnish its reputation no further, goodnight.
June 6, 2003
Love
Oxytocin
Love is illogical and unnecessary. Some would say we’d be better off without love, that our love of power, our love of material things is the source of hunger, war [google: grenade love triangle], depravation and all sorts of wild social afflictions. But being animals of transience, it is love that sustains us. Our lives erupt like fireworks, and just as quickly fade into something unmemorable. But love is times leash, and the salacious and maternal gods give us a tug ever so slightly so that we may have time to look around and rejoice, though there may be nothing to celebrate. Love is our favorite frame of reference. I stand 40 feet from something I love, and between us lay the rankest and the most mundane, but it is with pleasure that I traverse, and with intrigue that I do sniff the most fetid. Love savors sweat and hair and foulness and beauty and anything that we exude as humans may be encompassed by love. If you listen carefully, you’ll find love playing in the background when the corporeal and ethereal have their dance. There is nothing like love pulsing through ones veins and coatings one senses with chocolate, because love is candy incarnate. Let us taste love, because it too is transient in its existence, but its scent lives on. I can tell because the Earth smells and the scientists smell it too, but with all the technology in the world all they can find for love is a simple chemical and we all know, we all hope, that love cannot be bottled. I sometimes think of love as the joyful acceptance of assimilation, that when two lovers lock eyes it is because they have acknowledged once and for all that they are innately the same thing; that, for all their tries at self-expression, it is in similitude that they ultimately find the highest gratification. We need love, especially we cerebrals, because it reminds us of the importance of mindlessness, of chaos amidst our self-imposed rules. But I cannot define love and know not why I try. I shall tarnish its reputation no further, goodnight.