Another year, another Valentines. You think the day will come, has come, when all that jazz will pass you by by unnoticed! Irrelevant to you! A Marketing Nonsense! Remembering forever Valentine days when you were 16, 17, hoping for Valentines, just one, thinking one would do, as you watched Helen Moran counting hers at lunch time, waving red-edged cards with captured pink-gold hearts about for all to envy.
You decide there might be maybe one small plain one later, slipping through the letter box at home on the wind of your want. You figure maybe next year, some year anyway, your's will come?
Ah yes, the fevered expectation of school girls ready for the magic, for the love and the passion, all the dark mysteries, to start. The hunger for it! Life's essence in you and you might never get out from the traps to have it, to love, be loved, adored, have babies, kisses, tongue! Or ever get a single solitary Valentine...
Decades later you find out, at the only school reunion you’ll ever do, that Helen Moran? she sent those Valentines to herself. That neither she nor we humble on-lookers, actually got any a single solitary Valentine between us. Someone get Helen another double whiskey! Not a pink heart, a black-gold question mark, a fat red cherub between us! Oh, we got 'em later on from boyfriends, husbands maybe...Duty Valentines! But hey, that never counted? And the mad wild longing on us every Valentine’s Day for something Other. A Secret card, Unknown Admirer, Arrow Shot Possibilities from the Virtual Universe.
I totally get Bathsheba Everdene’s naughty giggling act in sending that Valentine to William Baldwin in Far From the Madding Crowd. And thereby pulling loose the thread of reason in his love lorn mind, unraveling painful until he murdered Captain Troy. I sent a few myself on that very principle?
I used to think that it was all in The Waiting, for The One to find you, but now I'd see it’s the Found Fusion with the Mystic Other? Hah! Valentines means coming home at last. It's the falling into the abyss of the real true.... Chemical High. Valentines will come to you, I might have told my sixteen year old self, or even my sixteen year old daughter, yes! And you will ride the whirlwind, yes you will. Emerging bedraggled on love's withdrawal, grim and sober and swearing on a rational life.
And also, I would tell her, age won't save you! Or Maturity. Valentine’s Day comes round each year for all of us and if you are not pierced to the heart, a little, with memory and longing I would not credit it.
Or maybe even, looking at a small white card, a rose, a question mark... even, as you swear you won’t succumb, fall into the Irresistible Madness one more time. Oh yes, yes. yes.
You decide there might be maybe one small plain one later, slipping through the letter box at home on the wind of your want. You figure maybe next year, some year anyway, your's will come?
Ah yes, the fevered expectation of school girls ready for the magic, for the love and the passion, all the dark mysteries, to start. The hunger for it! Life's essence in you and you might never get out from the traps to have it, to love, be loved, adored, have babies, kisses, tongue! Or ever get a single solitary Valentine...
Decades later you find out, at the only school reunion you’ll ever do, that Helen Moran? she sent those Valentines to herself. That neither she nor we humble on-lookers, actually got any a single solitary Valentine between us. Someone get Helen another double whiskey! Not a pink heart, a black-gold question mark, a fat red cherub between us! Oh, we got 'em later on from boyfriends, husbands maybe...Duty Valentines! But hey, that never counted? And the mad wild longing on us every Valentine’s Day for something Other. A Secret card, Unknown Admirer, Arrow Shot Possibilities from the Virtual Universe.
I totally get Bathsheba Everdene’s naughty giggling act in sending that Valentine to William Baldwin in Far From the Madding Crowd. And thereby pulling loose the thread of reason in his love lorn mind, unraveling painful until he murdered Captain Troy. I sent a few myself on that very principle?
I used to think that it was all in The Waiting, for The One to find you, but now I'd see it’s the Found Fusion with the Mystic Other? Hah! Valentines means coming home at last. It's the falling into the abyss of the real true.... Chemical High. Valentines will come to you, I might have told my sixteen year old self, or even my sixteen year old daughter, yes! And you will ride the whirlwind, yes you will. Emerging bedraggled on love's withdrawal, grim and sober and swearing on a rational life.
And also, I would tell her, age won't save you! Or Maturity. Valentine’s Day comes round each year for all of us and if you are not pierced to the heart, a little, with memory and longing I would not credit it.
Or maybe even, looking at a small white card, a rose, a question mark... even, as you swear you won’t succumb, fall into the Irresistible Madness one more time. Oh yes, yes. yes.
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