walking star

St valentines day, how exciting. A new mood for the planet for a day. We are all lovers with each other. A skipping rope fillip from google. Except, some of us are picky.

I wonder what soulmates are, perhaps just an illusion, collusion, allusion, alluria. I write about lovers but i have never had any. Bodies are too sticky sweet for me. I prefer minds, poems, smoke rings. The soul begins where the body ends.

Pet hates: gazpachio soup, broccoli, influenza, humming bees. I will learn to love all these. And trees.

We should try to love the most difficult people. Osama bin Laden. Barbra Streisand. The Pope. We should see that they were us, at the moment of their birth, and are the result of living in different circumstances. There are lots of people who don’t believe this. I say: get to know yourself, you will find everyone else is in there with you. When the mask is torn off we know ourselves, and we instantly know love.

Years ago i wrote on open diary about all this, but that site suffered from its own popularity and it was all deleted. Such a missed opportunity.. but the internet is still so fragile, even today. We trust it with things that are so precious to us. Imagine if it was all lost to some new virus, like a house fire running through the wires, destroying everything.