Tag Archives: love

Love is a punch in the throat

Thanks to my girlfriend @brycelongton for digging this up.

reposted from http://queserasera.org/archives/000790.html


I think there are two kinds of love. Well, maybe three if you count Kill Bill Vol. 2, which was just an excuse for Quentin Tarantino to gaze at Uma Thurman through a camera lens and then lay claim to her with a giant cinematic facial at the end by shooting his name across her face in huge letters that might as well have been dripping down the screen. Anyway, I think there are two kinds of love. One is the kind of love where a person already has decided the things they want to happen to them, the things they desperately want and need and associate with love, they’ve mapped them out on their own heart beforehand, and they’re just trying to find someone to do them with. They’ve already decided that love = zany photobooth pictures and sharing their favorite movie on the couch once a week and saying this one pet name and them both liking the same band and going to the same coffeeshop and looking up and smiling over a book. So every person they date, they take them on the same walk to the same place and take the same pictures and pose the same pose and try the same lean-in and give the same mix tape, just giving the routine they want a test drive over and over again until it sticks, and then they get all the comforts that come with the routine of loving someone who holds the same things dear, or is at least game for holding your things dear with you.

And then there’s the other kind of love, that kind that sneaks up on you and punches you in the throat, and every part of it seems crazy and foreign at first, from the person and how they make you feel to the new things you find yourself doing, and you’re almost weirded out by how strange it is, and how you’re simultaneously repelled and attracted to it, and you might roll your eyes at it all and say, whatever, I’m not in love, I’m just doing this for awhile, but then one day you realize you want that strange new routine and person and it’s more love than anything else has ever been ever in your whole entire life, ever.

Interchangeable photobooth people, I wish you well, but I’ll take my punch in the throat.


What does your voice sound like underwater?

If we were fish i would find you playing dangerously close to a thermal vent. Riding bubbles rocketing toward the sky, past boundless, multicolored coral groves. Schools of more obedient fish scatter and hide as you dance amongst superheated oblate spheroids of toxic gas- Isn’t this fun!?! “Try it, just once,” you shout over your fin. But they cant hear you, having retreated to safer, more temperate currents that flow to more predictable patches of sea.

Why is this and why is that? ooohhhh, and. Stop.

Maybe this dark and scary cave is just lonely?

Streak and Flash! All you leave are the heated liquid vibrations of a smile that now warms new space. How you dart! Like moonlight on chain mail, your little scales are not ostentatious just well made. One moment’s glance brings another.

You are complex, understated, and beautiful. Adamantine, to a point. You bend and bounce and stretch and purrr when pet or wet. Years of little questions and patient observation have sewn your skin into soul like rings make the tree. You are a fish that i met by a thermal vent under the sea.