visceral valentines vicariousness

Funny how I can be so cynical of life and emotion; -- just last week I was telling a recently bereaved friend that these egoistic melancholies we are taught to want by overdramatic literature and film, -- only to be flooded with wishes, love and sorrows at, of all places, the movies.

[In America comes recommended.]

Driving back from the cinema I nearly missed a turn, but my dad's reminder shook me back to life from my thoughts and the question forming:

When did I last experience that pain or love... of losing someone, or feeling someone as close as me to myself?

Lately I haven't been able to yank myself from the subject of my upanddown-ness. But this fluctuation is within the bounds of that same egoism. It's all me, and it's all contrived and buried somewhere beneath life's real fabric.

Yesterday I felt sharply that my consuming interests in technology and all of this webbaloney are not contributing me much in the way of visceral life experience.

That's my funnyvalentine way of saying I need to get out more.

All my love,