don't read to much into this
Who coined the phrase, "Happily ever after". No one really knows. There are people that you can attribute it too. I am sure that there is someone who has a first edition of some archaic manuscript that has the phrase scribbled along with quill scratches of a barely decipherable phrase that one could determine to be "Happily ever after." In fact it is not about the person who first included the phrase into pop culture but the phrase itself.
It only goes to show you the power of words on the human psyche. If childhood fairy tales ended with prince charming taking his damsel in distress home to a drafty stone castle built for the purpose of protection rather than fung shui you can imagine happily wouldn't be the best adjective to describe the mood. When we are little kids they separate the boys from the little girls, build the mystery, point out the differences between Adam and Eve. Foreshadow coupling. Adults are the snakes in the playground of Eden. Still, no one ever points out that love these days has become as manufactured as the greeting cards with the bright red words and clichéd phrases meant to get you laid on a February night. At some point everyone wants to get laid.
Lust is a mystery as much as any mystery can be in this technologically advanced age. Every advance of the internet within the last ten years is in some how or someway pioneered by the porn industry who have turned our computers into little more than four figure wank machines. We can search our most secret fetishes and desires and with a sixteen digit credit card and a valid expiration date I can almost guarantee that there is something on this invisible library that can make your toes curl and your mother blush. In essence Lust is natural, let's face it, when aroused, blood leaves your head and your feet taking away your ability to think or leave and without either one of those choices, sometimes my dick too finds itself like an ostrich and I look to bury my head underground but I digress. We are all whores, some are just more open than others. Hell even the Virgin Mother had more kids.
Love and the concept of "Happily ever after"leaves us confused, longing, wanting nay needing happily ever after even though it doesn't make sense in our world. In our world there is a beginning and an end to everything, almost everything.
(A circle once completed has no beginning or end, but that is geometry and pretty far off the subject.) We as humans measure everything with time. We as a species are obsessed with it. From the Doomsdayers who look to our destruction in the year 2012 or the scientist that provide the science for such things, or the clerics who point to their bible instead and look to the heavens for a descending Jesus, we count everything within our lives and the world around us.
So in love what do we count? Do we count the silly fights? The awful fights? The slammed doors?0 The words you wish you could take back? The times you both said that you were going to walk away? The times one of you convinced the other to stay? The times you slept in the same bed? The times you were comforted by their touch, their smell? The way that they taste upon your lips? The morning breath from a kiss first thing in the morning? The number of inside jokes between just you two? The way it feels to tangle feet under covers? What do we count? Where do we begin? Where does the counting end? When is happily ever after? What is "Happy"? Does it exist or is it just hope shrouded within a phrase?
Sometimes I wonder if happiness can exist in this deluded world of the many prescription pads with plenty of white space, ready to prescribe us with what the commercials think we need?
When did emotions become so tangible that we can take two doses of "happy" three times a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year, and still consider ourselves human?
It doesn't matter in the end. Time is infinite and we are not. What is considered human today will be primitive three tomorrows from now. Still, it would be nice in this world of commercially induced malaise to truly believe that in a lovers eyes happily ever after embedded somewhere with their minds. It would be easier accept the fantasy.
It only goes to show you the power of words on the human psyche. If childhood fairy tales ended with prince charming taking his damsel in distress home to a drafty stone castle built for the purpose of protection rather than fung shui you can imagine happily wouldn't be the best adjective to describe the mood. When we are little kids they separate the boys from the little girls, build the mystery, point out the differences between Adam and Eve. Foreshadow coupling. Adults are the snakes in the playground of Eden. Still, no one ever points out that love these days has become as manufactured as the greeting cards with the bright red words and clichéd phrases meant to get you laid on a February night. At some point everyone wants to get laid.
Lust is a mystery as much as any mystery can be in this technologically advanced age. Every advance of the internet within the last ten years is in some how or someway pioneered by the porn industry who have turned our computers into little more than four figure wank machines. We can search our most secret fetishes and desires and with a sixteen digit credit card and a valid expiration date I can almost guarantee that there is something on this invisible library that can make your toes curl and your mother blush. In essence Lust is natural, let's face it, when aroused, blood leaves your head and your feet taking away your ability to think or leave and without either one of those choices, sometimes my dick too finds itself like an ostrich and I look to bury my head underground but I digress. We are all whores, some are just more open than others. Hell even the Virgin Mother had more kids.
Love and the concept of "Happily ever after"leaves us confused, longing, wanting nay needing happily ever after even though it doesn't make sense in our world. In our world there is a beginning and an end to everything, almost everything.
(A circle once completed has no beginning or end, but that is geometry and pretty far off the subject.) We as humans measure everything with time. We as a species are obsessed with it. From the Doomsdayers who look to our destruction in the year 2012 or the scientist that provide the science for such things, or the clerics who point to their bible instead and look to the heavens for a descending Jesus, we count everything within our lives and the world around us.
So in love what do we count? Do we count the silly fights? The awful fights? The slammed doors?0 The words you wish you could take back? The times you both said that you were going to walk away? The times one of you convinced the other to stay? The times you slept in the same bed? The times you were comforted by their touch, their smell? The way that they taste upon your lips? The morning breath from a kiss first thing in the morning? The number of inside jokes between just you two? The way it feels to tangle feet under covers? What do we count? Where do we begin? Where does the counting end? When is happily ever after? What is "Happy"? Does it exist or is it just hope shrouded within a phrase?
Sometimes I wonder if happiness can exist in this deluded world of the many prescription pads with plenty of white space, ready to prescribe us with what the commercials think we need?
When did emotions become so tangible that we can take two doses of "happy" three times a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year, and still consider ourselves human?
It doesn't matter in the end. Time is infinite and we are not. What is considered human today will be primitive three tomorrows from now. Still, it would be nice in this world of commercially induced malaise to truly believe that in a lovers eyes happily ever after embedded somewhere with their minds. It would be easier accept the fantasy.