Death, Destruction, Porn and Chocolate...

So yesterday was Valentine's Day. Here's the guy who got stuck with the title. Or is given credit for it.
And here's a great little moment that also marks the day.

What I take from that is apparently the essence of Valentine's Day has to do with massacres and beheadings.

I'm not cynical about the day, I'm more bemused by how it seems to hold such importance, and the reality is far bloodier and so much less to do with love than any other holiday I can think of. I've never been with someone on the day (unless you count the very awkward date I had with Larry after I got back from NTI--cured by the fact that we each drank a bottle of wine throughout the night and had the most fumbling messing around session. In all my frisky nature, that was the only time a guy was doing something to me and I was staring out the window, bored out of my mind), and so maybe it would be a lonelier day if I had ever been with someone. But it's just another day. A day where everyone wears a red sweater. Yup, I wore a red sweater. But that's just because I wear a lot of red.

And truth be told, this Valentine's Day was very nice. Calls came in and went out from all over the country, and I felt loved. And that's what the day is about, right? So who cares if I didn't have someone calling me "sweetheart" or going out to some fancy restaurant to prove our love? I don't. It was rainy and gross yesterday. And so the only difference for me is that if I was with someone, I would have sex with them. But, knowing me, no matter what day it is, if I'm with you, I'm probably going to have sex with you. But I'm in Lent right now, and such things couldn't occur, so I really didn't feel I was missing much, if anything at all. I have a feeling I'd be the girlfriend that would take her boyfriend to a strip club on Valentine's Day. In fact, I can't wait until the next one (boyfriend? Valentine's Day?) so I can do it.

Not to mention, the next boy will treat me like a queen so much, that every day will feel like Valentine's Day. I settled too much, and I deserved much more previously.

I watched the Westminister Dog Show, and flipped between the West Wing marathon and a special on the Valentine's Day Massacre on the History Channel.

And I smoked a lot. But what else is new?

And I hung out with a girl, if only for a brief period that she was buying pot off of me.

But I am in love. It just happens to be with a book. It's much easier for me to find a man than it is for me to find a book that I will enjoy. I'm much pickier with my books. I roll around in its pages, and its words dance across and tease my frontal lobe, and we all know the brain is the largest sexual organ we have. I love it so much it's on the verge of breaking my 40 Days of Reckoning, mentally at least.

If you haven't, go read Skinny Legs and All. Call in sick and go do it now. Tom Robbins uses the English language like a children's playground, and I can't imagine that he's not having the best time in the world doing it. He also describes sex and love in the way that I see it, blending the sacred with the ridiculous. The only way I see my life--sacred and ridiculous.

Currently what I'm listening to:

"So Have I For You"

That's Nikka Costa. It's worth a looksie as well. I'm toying with the idea that it might be a good theme song.

I'm really procrastinating.

I have a boxing class today, which means I won't be able to move tomorrow. But I figure I'd switch my sexual energy into kinetic energy, and that way, I'll get healthier and by the time I do start having sex again, I'll look better naked. That mentality is probably slightly inappropriate to my Quest, but it's true so if it gets me to the gym, I'll take it.

Ok, I really need to stop now. My love to all.