I've never felt heroin's opiate effect hurtle through my bloodstream, but I have come close.
Like many mortals I've fallen deep into the throes of love's heady, kaleidoscopic embrace, and I've also faced it's all too vulgar final gesture: a strident middle finger poking sharply into the middle of my heart, leaving an ache worse than the white hot flame of tonsilitis, and longer lasting than a savage kick in the shin -- *without* a shin guard.
Maybe because I've witnessed love in my own life shape shift from something astonishing to something similar to, say, flesh eating bacteria (love gone sour does eat away at striated muscle tissue, doesn't it? Metaphorically? Kinda?), I can appreciate love songs on both extremes of the love song continuum (one end being heroin-like euphoria and the other end an acute, radiating hurt caused by a heart that's curled inward for protection).
These days I have no room for love songs that address subcutaneous pain and fog-engulfing anguish, or tortured metaphors/metaphors of torture. That is so summer of '08.
These days I'm struck, really struck, by love songs that celebrate the quiet thrills of having crossed paths with someone who makes you want to brush your hair more than usual, and buy mouthwash in containers labeled "family-size".
No need for troubadour-like outpourings, or a roomful of prized roses, and absolutely no vials of blood dangling pendant-style in loud proclamation. Just a simple string of words accompanied by a melody, and the acknowledgment that you and me are a "we"...and that's just how it's supposed to be.
have you grown bangs?? complete ones? gotta see you! Oh yeah, I am seeing you in 6 days, BOOYA
ReplyDelete