Monday, March 23, 2009

What I Love

Ever notice how a group of intelligent individuals with years of book learnin’ on a myriad of subjects will almost always turn the conversation to love- the quest for it, the lack of it, the desire of it and the indifference towards it?

It’s tricky for me because I’m not as familiar with the sentiment as I would like to be, at least not with the opposite sex, and sometimes I even wonder if that’s the case with the other people in my life, too.

One thing I never doubt, however, is my love for the written word.

But before I get into that, you know my show comes on tonight. Brother Omi is my co-host as we have an in-depth discussion about the Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Dominican author Junot Diaz.

If you haven't read this book yet then you are putting our friendship in serious jeopardy. Seriously.

I'll give you a pass, though, if you tune in to my show, A Jaded Literary Moment, tonight at 10PM, just like the flyer says...

And now the post:

Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. -Robert Frost

So many want that, “fit in the nook of his body in bed at night” kind of love that lulls them to sleep. That, “he loves me no matter what I look like in the morning” love. That, “I burnt the roast but he kissed me and we ordered take-out instead” love. That, “he can’t keep his eyes hands legs lips off of me” love.

Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence. -Henry Louis Mencken

So many will let love smack them in the face, give them an STD, leave them stranded with a child, make them forget their own worth, allow them to become a shell of who they used to be, force them to turn their backs on loved ones and nothing you tell them will ignite the logic that wills them to leave and be free.

Love is friendship set on fire. – unknown

Some get lost in the lustful quest of love, the whirlwind, fairytale, fancy diamond, “He proposed at the World Series,” fast and happy fiery fleeting love, that doesn’t have time to marinate, that isn’t tried on in the dressing room, that burns bright for a millisecond of a lifetime before fizzling out into a cloud of smoke over a pile of ashes.

The bible will have us believe that:

Love is patient and kind, and it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

But I say if that’s the truth, then love is not human because humans are all those things.

And I for one want nothing to do with things not of this world, this alien called love, unless this love manifests itself to me in a book filled with words that teach me to find my own nook in the bed at night, will never put their hands on me and will always take the time to make me theirs.

I just want to crack open that new binding and lose myself in words that I know but have never seen in this particular order before. I want to be stolen away in the middle of the night to Terabithia, catch that marlin for the Old Man, become best friends with one of the Garcia Girls, stop Louis from burying Gage in the old pet cemetery.

I just want to know what these thin pages are trying to tell me… about the Salem witch trials, about writing the perfect query letter, about baking the perfect carrot cake, about the best fit of clothing that will help me camouflage these extra 20 pounds… and let it fill my brain until I’m sated.

I just want to spend time with my words, get to know them better, like, what makes this word go so well with that word, but sound more terribler with the other one. I want to be devoted to this special, quiet, comfy, sofa, me & words time, away from the ashes of those fiery loves that have extinguished around me.

Just free to love and be loved by words.

*smooches...wondering if any of this made sense to you*
sometimes my brain goes off on these tangents and I just have to let it do what it do... to hell with the feedback!