"love is a dog from hell"-- chas bukowski
bokowski, while a great poet, was also a misogynist. an alcoholic. likely a junkie, if he had enough money.
i went to see love, actually tonight. it's a sweet, coppola kind of movie. lots of swelling music and everything's fine in the end. well, for some. enough pathos to reflect it doesn't work out for all of us.
a lot of the blogs on this line are about love. new love that's looking hopeful, thwarted love that's not, and the messy part that's here for the rest of it. i'm of a mind that love is a choice. the choices are often difficult ones.
here's a package that i've known lately:
those who want to be desired yet not known
those who are known yet not desired
i have mostly known the former. the one time i think i really knew both wasn't the right time for me.
so: you make choices. one choice is to love even without guarentees. when it isn't all wrapped up for you.
that's the way it goes.
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sometimes when i see something or read something of unfathomed beauty that touches me in a profound way i tack it to my wall in my bedroom. a collection of words and images that i pass daily and read or glance at. this blog I printed out and placed it upon the bedroom wall.
joey
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