red thing red.
Anonymous asked: Love is patient… is it?
Oh hardly. It is a desperate thing, anxious and urge and falling down and over and into. Usually it is small, in time, but big and swoll like the mound of the moon. I think it’s ok to accept it as a temporal thing, and also a secular thing; we are responsible for it, and for what we do with it, and for what it lets us do. So we try to be good, and full, and we try not to do shameful things, and we try not to be ashamed of perfectly normal, silly things.
Anonymous asked: I took a dropkick to the heart at the beginning of this year. Im not quite ok yet but my art (plaster concrete and lead pencils) is helping.When i hear songs about love now i imagine theyre written to art works. What do you think of art instead of/ as love?
I think painful love, wrong love, and bad love is the ground we mostly excavate. Dig and scratch. I think even lovely love has sad weight, big blue heft. The nature of being alone even when not alone. The urge to join, the brief stabbing and the quick-quick bleeding. The tiny extra parts of you and me that gather where they oughtn’t, or actually, where they ought. IT IS all too much to keep in, so it leaks out, in small secret ways, and other people can smell it and licklick it and rub it on their bellies and bottoms. This is how we cope, and this is how we find other people who can help us with the coping.
And love is lovely, really the loveliest, no matter what my silly words might lead you to believe.
Beautiful
