ah the crescendo of what the hell

forgive me, I'm drinking. Alone mind you. Disclaimer: None of this is personal so please don't take it so. For Zeus's sake, and my own.

It's a fine rainy night in los Angeles, 3 days before Christmas. I'm a clambake in my house, I dragged the bedspread and pillows into my living room to set up camp so long as Jason is out of town - which is lasting I guess till just before new years.
At some point I have to make the trek up north but this freaking season has my senses all screwed up. I mean, it's Christmastime and apparently there's no place like Los Angeles. Why? I have no clue - like the headless chicken that I prove to be here, running around the city virtually on my own looking for fun and not really accomplishing much but a hike and some walks through the epic shopping centers that adorn Hollywood and Pasadena. It's lovely, but in the end I am sitting on my fancy bedspread, in my fancy apartment that smells like apples toasting myself with glass of wine I kid you not.

I'm wondering if I am the only one who enjoys George Clooney's character more pre-infatuation stage in Up in the Air. he was interesting when he wasn't obsessed with whatsherbutt. Right? I mean, he gives you hope that people can live outside of the doomness of falling in love. Because love is just that - Doom. You either never get what you want, or you kid yourself into thinking you've gotten exactly what you want until you realize that you have nothing and spend the night drinking and convincing your inner-gut that It is wrong and needs to stop feeling that way.
I read something today about the origin of love, written by Aristophanes, that basically said this: all humans want is to be literally sewn and molded back together with one another, and we spend the whole of our lives in this critical pain striving to do so. Well what more truth is there than that! I mean, how many journals can you fill as a kid before you realize all you're doing is venting about how love isn't working out for you. Then you head into college and after, spending the majority of your time working your butt off to avoid the fact that you are ultimately alone and doomed to never really love. How many people actually get it, this whole love thing? Or are they all just compromising and expecting.
I don't know. It's been an odd couple weeks for me. But I am trying to drive my energies towards the right things. I have this burning inside of me that is literally murder and I know that it is Love and the insane lacking that I feel.. It hurts, even right now it's painful. I can sit here, and my freaking brain causes my body pain for lack of love. What IS that! Why can't I convince myself that I have an overwhelming plethura of love, and fill that empty gap with sheer delight? Is it only physical? do I just need the physical fulfillment to douse this scathing flickering flame inside my stomach? Bull crap. I'd give my right nut for physicality all the time but who can have that? who can actually live in an only physical state and still succeed as a human in the social world?

Well, maybe that's what Aristophanes was talking about when he said that the human beings, when conjoined, were becoming greater than the gods themselves. Because they are in the perfect state, a state we can only pretend to achieve by intertwining our bodies and pulling eachother as close as is impossible. But never fully divulging. Never achieving that melted state of serenity that we originally once were.

This makes so much sense. If you believe in Adam, maybe those two were just post-split. And God was Zeus' son whom he said, "hey, watch these guys and make sure they don't do anything stupid". (Which they did thanks to SNAKE!)

Ok. I digress. The point is, love is as passing as a good book. you sit down and read it in spurts. By the time you're in the middle, nothing else exists outside of that book. All you want to do is read more and more of it! So you quicken through the pages, get swept away by the alternative universe, discover the climax and finish the ending! and if the book is good enough you're left wanting more and wait unsatisfied for the next installment.

Only, what if there isn't a next installment? What if that was it, and you've had your fun and that's all you get..

Now THAT's love

Anyway, goodnight

Mikie