It all looks so simple in the movies, two hours and you're at happy ending. In real
life, the human dance is more complicated. It's a lot closer to whooping cranes and
rhinoceroses with serious cross-references, mistaken signal collisions, and I-think-it's-time-to-leave-now
retreats. For a human, love life gets as humorless as a rhinoceros; it can include
things like the Kama Sutra, how to turn love making into an extreme sport. Couples
looking sideways at diagrams: "Your leg goes here, and my arm goes. and your hip's
wrong—look it's supposed to be above my—and your head.." Bedrooms filled with people
frozen in unlikely positions. The ideal how-to sex book would be a pop-up. Every page
unfolding into three dimensional cut-outs with little tabs that make the couple into
action figures. In and out, up and down. Laughable, but who can afford to notice?
Apropos sex, a sense of humor is seriously bad news. Later the mind will regain itself
from the body, shake itself like a dog coming in from the rain, describe meaning into
what was briefly, everything. And we'll find ourselves, once again, deprived into
security and mundane days. Ah well, here's a kiss for sweet remembrance. Here's a soft touch for your cheek.
Here's a ghost, just passed by the life you live to give you a moment's pause.
I like a happy ending in words that let everybody off the hook. I've never relished
hearing sad stories meant to wring the heart. I always want sweet salvation to save
the day from sorrow. In words, all worlds are there, and hope, if we can only say
it right this time. The language of love, impressionable and fragile, worthy of protecting.
How sensible of lovers to take love straight away, or as soon as possible to the protection
of four walls and a door that closes to keep it safe. Secure it. Love. Secured. Nine
to five and then come home. All you need is love... and lawn furniture. Bank accounts.
All you need is love. and enough closet space. All you need is love, love is all you need,love is all you need, love is all you need. and you've got it.
You've got it and you mean to keep it. You are at happy ending. Your sweet miracle
has come home to stay. It's time to adore the mundane. The daily is your heart's desire.
The mundane world must be our joy. The daily, be our darling. The commonplace, be
our morning song. The usual, be our heaven. The common place, our morning star. The
usual. Sit on the veranda, drink tea, watch ducks navigate the pond. It is summer.
And you are living a very long, unfinished, Russian novel....
