Star Maps to the Sun

Raspberry jello is its own reward. I found that quote on Jenni's blog today, and it really made it all clear to me. Well, not clear so much as puzzling in a sweet way.

I do love Jell-O. I even love Bill Cosby for shilling for them.

But even though I don't trust the way jelly moves, that is beside the point. I am on a quest to find out what love is. Do you faithful readers remember when I was told that I needed to find out what love is, and in the meantime he was going to go watch Alias? Well, that's what I've been doing. And he's gotta be through at least season two now, but I'm not sure I have an answer yet.

Does anyone out there know? Is it letting someone have the last bite off your plate, or holding their hair when they're getting sick? Is it bringing them soup when they're sniffly? Are you allowed to fight or do you always have to give them a special ringer on your phone regardless of the extra charge?

I know what it's like to have other people love me. I can see it. I can feel it. It's beautiful, like a warm sweater that's part cashmere. I love other people...or do I? I can't figure it out. Is it in my eyes somewhere, is it that twinkle? Or is that just the bathroom light? I thought I had it all figured out...and now I just spend all my time messing shit up. I am confusing and confused.

I've seen it in movies. I know that people in love do crazy things. He comes back for her after being trapped for years in a POW camp. A couple meets, against the odds, at a national landmark. Together, they can stop an out-of-control bus from careening into various things. He gets lost in her despite his hard-boiled exterior and has sex with her on the kitchen table. He dies and she goes shortly after of a broken heart. The list goes on.

We see the kisses, the embraces, the wistful glances, the late-night conversations, the sex; we hear the music swell and we know that those people are going to be forever united. The Movie Drug has really fucked up my life...it just so happens you can't SEE my track marks.

This silver-screen idea has gotta be what love is. Which is why, when I found the following quote on Jenni's blog (without knowing the actual context), it got me thinking.

"I'll just put you on a handtruck and wheel you around like Hannibal Lector."

I know that Jenni messed up her hamstrings playing pool and was temporarily crippled (that's just our Jenn-bear). I'm guessing that one of the funnier people we know must have suggested this as a solution to the problem of her not being able to walk around.

It is my assertion that this is a loving statement.

I love the use of the word handtruck, first of all, but mostly I love the feeling behind this sentence. I am volunteering my time and my muscles to help you out, and it is inevitable that you will eat me later. We all know you're going to get out of those restraints, honey, and I say bring it on. I absolutely adore letting the hours slip away pushing your criminally insane ass around because you can't get along on your own. Get out the fava beans, you little presh, because I have a liver that is here to satisfy you. Take me, all my organs are yours.

All Yours.

So come on, Mister Hopkins. I think celluloid and cannibalism have given me a definition to latch onto. And without such burning life questions on my mind, it's WAY easier to hit it like it's going out of style.

screaming lamb. g