Love Hurts.........

Did they jump or did they just leave a banner asking a question none of us can answer?

Boy does it hurt.........

I became embroiled in something about ten months ago and, well, I'm still none the wiser to be honest. Maybe that's why it ended. I have a vague feeling I was meant to do certain things and act in certain ways, but it just never occurred to me. No surer way to destroy the illusion of love than acting all absent and detached. Funny old world. A prior relationship to this one ended because I lapsed into the 'desperate puppy dog' act. I got it the wrong fucking way around, didn't I? It seems that whatever the situation, I'll mis-read it and apply the wrong behaviour mode.

Of course, you might argue that acting like a lovesick goon just to keep an affair rolling is no way to be. Sure, but if I'd held myself together in the prior relationship, well, things might have been a bit different. Look, these things don't come along very often for me. I need to get them right first time..............

I don't mind admitting that I get pangs of regret now. Is it love when you feel regret? Is it love when you pine like the proverbial Norwegian Blue? Or is it just missing the tactile, the touch, the sheer contact? The lost boy looking eternally for assurance and validity?

Does anyone care?

Nah! and nor should you..........

So, to all who feed the machine with bunches of flowers that will be dead by Tuesday and cards that can never adequately express the things you feel and boxes of cheap chocolate to be half eaten and surreptitiously stuck in the bin, I say this..................

Take two days off work. If it helps to be around the 14th of February, fine! If not, then also fine. Fuck each other senseless, go to the pub, or the park, or whatever it is you both like doing (Bungee Scuba Diving, Naked Potholing, Transcribing Das Kapital into Swahili), come home, eat like gluttons, drink like fools.................etc

For the rest of you? It's not your day, sorry..........

The day they find and recognise the Patron Saint of Jilted Lovers, or the Patron Saint of Misanthropic Singletons, then sure, fill yr boots................

Until then, chin up, chest out and thank yr lucky stars you don't have some fucker stealing the sheets off you tonight.*



* Shit! Sorry, some people like that sort of stuff.........

Love Is Cheap

.................about 40p a bar going by this report. Isn't it great? I can buy a bar of Bournville/Dairy Milk and the sensations I get from scoffing said confectionery should give me a buzz that apparently negates the need to engage in tonsil hockey with the opposite sex. It's actually my lack of charm and odd personality that do all the negating in that respect, but it's nice to know that the heady rush gained from a passionate kiss with someone you really rather like can be replaced by letting some chocolate melt in your mouth. This has it's advantages. Chocolate doesn't bite your tongue, give you freakish throat infections, suck your lips until they turn blue and feverishly attempt to retrieve your last meal by sticking it's tongue down your throat. Nor does it leave at the drop of a hat with it's gay/ugly mate to catch the night bus home. It does rot your teeth and make you fat but you can't have everything.

So, does anyone really favour a door-stop sized bar of Galaxy over a bit of 'In/Out' with the dancing partner of ones choosing? Oh, and if you do anything other than eat it, please don't tell me, I might hate you forever...............

That said, I have all the passion of a dead Halibut so fire away........................

Anyway, answers on a Terry Kelly Campaign Leaflet, tied to a half brick and addressed to an as yet unbuilt luxury condo on what is for now Seedhill Playingfields