Christmas is a time of confession.
I mean, I have to be on my best behavior for Santa, right?
Well… I have a big one to admit. Sort of… I mean, let me explain.
I wrote a blog about this time last year about love. Just general thoughts/feelings on love/relationships. It was not a declaration. It was not a manifesto. More like a statement of feeling. SO… With that being said, here is my confession.
I, Stacy Swinney, have plagiarized my own writing to create a not so original love letter. I copied and pasted the following blog entry into an email and sent it off to a suitor who requested to know my feelings for him. Well, seeing is how I didn’t have feelings for the suitor, I couldn’t write something amazing and original… I instead was lazy and chose to copy/past and change a couple of pronouns.
Now maybe dear readers, you are horrified.
Or rolling in the aisle with laughter… Either way, I now have posted this here with the intention of making this a copy/paste love letter for all to have and enjoy. Feel free to edit it and make it your own.
I have also found out, with continual changes of pronouns it makes a great Dear John a.k.a. break up letter. It takes a bit more work… but it is worth it for the gentle yet firm you-don’t-light-my-fire let down that Hallmark doesn’t make.
And look! I have done this just in time for the holidays.
Need that NYE kiss? Send here this. Want to ditch the zero before NYE and start with a clean slate? Look no further.
Stacy Swinney’s Copy/Paste Love Letter
(or Dear John Letter)
There is only one question we need to ask ourselves: who knows how to make love stay? (Because, you see, its rare. it’s rare for it to last and it’s rare to find).
If you answer me that, I can tell you rather or not to kill yourself; if you answer me that I can ease your mind about time, space and the beginning/ending of time; if answer me that and I can tell you the purpose of the moon.
Above all of things, this, love, this infatuation is nothing but a patina glaze over the previous encounters. The encounters that had all but short of the lasting impression in pressed memories of vulture shadows and wolf howls, cocaine highs and explosives... and then some.
I've been nothing but burned, till now-- I think, and thusly I have a black belt in haiku and was practically a waitress at the last supper (thus enabling me to start over with our breakfast)... I have been through heart-break boot camp and now am a counselor in training. .
don’t think I am lamenting the fact that I have been loved, lost, fucked, found, beaten, broken and left standing alone... barely, but alone on my own two feet with all ten toes and ten fingers intact.
from all my lessons learned I know only this: I thought I knew what love was and how to make it stay, but now, I haven’t got a clue-- I am completely stupid on the subject, like convex vectors and how to translate homer.
But I did come up with way to try to convince love stay (aside from access to my bank account, pin 4456) 1) I’m telling love I am going to the sick deli off Franklin to get sandwiches and cheesecake, if it stays, love can have half (but that deli closed like a mo0nth or two ago so that is out. OR I have to find another equally great Italian style deli.). 2) Well... haven’t thought of a second one... even more so now that the first is out of commission.
Maybe a better way to put it is, the prince really IS a toad and you, the princess just has a reptile fetish OR even better, the princess has halitosis. People are never perfect but love can make you over look that; and the only way that the mediocre and vile are transformed by finding such a love (or an equally vile or mediocre person to attach too). Point being, loving makes love. Making it work makes love.
Or maybe; somehow love is this mythical ultimate outlaw. It just won’t adhere to the rules. The most any of us can do is sign on to be an accomplice, a partner in crime... and accessory. Instead of vowing honor to obey maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question and the words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate and no longer apply in this reality.
My love for you is free. Love for you is no strings attached; no back end deals with conditions or punishments but no strings attached in the purest sense of those words.
I thought hard. I thought I might want to follow you to the ends of the earth. And I could, if
I bet you are reading this, slightly confused, and a little amused. Glaring at the screen the way I glare when I need a vice fix: a smoke, a bite, coffee, piece of ass or fast story... and instead I get philosophy... or bad art. Or Wu-Tang.
So here, I sit, typing away spouting off random thoughts of love and the life altering/ending impacts they have and how to avoid the latter of the two choices. I sigh. I should be doing anything but this. Looking for a job, mending my life, figuring my shit out. I should... do whatever.
But I want this out and off of my chest.
So here I am, praying to Elmer, the Greek god of glue, that this sticks and it works.
All I want is someone to shoot patron and eat Twinkies with me. ;)
No comments:
Post a Comment