season of the bitch

I feel like I should have some deep political insight right now, less than two months from the election, but the only insight I have is that this shit has gone on for way too long and wasted way too much money.

So instead, I have a couple of beautiful posts to share with you.

I’ve been thinking about love a lot lately. At first when I escaped my relationship I just wanted to get out, be alone, have time that was entirely my own and I really didn’t care to try and think about it, or at all feel anything. I wanted to play.

I still enjoy my alone time and I frankly don’t think I have the time or the emotional capability to deal with love right now. At least not the way it’s commonly thought of. I wonder if I really do want that–ever.

But there are bits of love all over the place in my life, however strange and unruly and improper they may be. And it is still the strongest thing in the world.

Love is radical, and its tears will extinguish Hell, but only if we burn with it. It is not enough to love quietly, mousily, in the safe spaces, because love is radically unsafe. Love will throw you through Hell and walk with you on the hike out. Love does not let you hide behind walls, it will slice you open, it will make you bleed.

Love is an act of blood. Love is an act of bone. It is your breath.

I don’t want to love someone again until I can really throw myself into it. Until I meet someone willing to throw themselves into it as well. To admit that there are no rules.

I say let’s call down the thunders, then. Let’s stand and fight. Let’s own that our love is a matter of artillery, and fire salvo after salvo. Let’s hold hands and kiss and fuck and dance while all over, rock shears from the cliff-faces of their shuddering world and it frays at the seams. Let’s defiantly exist, exist hard, right next to them, public, brazen, beautiful. Let’s drill and march and right on their doorsteps let’s have unacceptable bodies and loud music and food whose aromas they find foreign and offensive. Let’s fucking sing.

And love can be itself a political act. But that’s too narrow. Too little and petty a word for it. It can be revolutionary.

Tagged: linklove

§ 2 Responses to “Love is.”

• Adam Myerson says:

  September 13, 2008 at 11:47 pm

  Lots of times, love is just balancing a checkbook together, paying all your bills, washing dishes, laughing at each other’s dumb jokes, talking about what was on NPR that day, and still wanting to fuck.
• Michelle says:

  September 15, 2008 at 8:02 am

  I found your site through ’smalltownelitist’…and am glad I did.

  Wow…I can relate to what you said about ‘love’. Having been married to an abuser for almost 25 years…I had absolutely no interest in finding anyone…as my idea of what “love” should be had been totally shattered. (Especially since we were both ordained into the ministry)

  The worst part was that for almost the entire time we were living outside the USA. That all came crashing down once we moved back. The Sheriff’s department intervened….I ended up living in a “safe-house” after I was released from the hospital. The only thing I left with….my briefcase, clothes on my back and my Sheltie puppy (that was cared for until I found us a place was the Humane Society)

  But…Lo and Behold! I met a neighbor. Turned out to be the greatest guy on the planet (I can say this with confidence as my career took me across four continents!)

  We’ve been married now, just over two years. My entire extended family just love him. Never did I expect to meet anyone…let alone someone so well matched to me. We do EVERYTHING together….except singing (never singing…my voice is so shrill, it could crack glass…lol )

  To use your words…we have definitely both “thrown ourselves” into one another…and we love it!

  Thanks for creating such a great…honest…site.

  Michelle

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