I’m throwing this short-form piece I did years (decades) ago up here because I’ve just recently coloured it and, if I don’t put it up, I’ll probably never do anything with it. It was my attempt at a more punk graphic style and as such, I think it works quite well.
The Melbourne in which it was set is now largely gone (drowned beneath a wave of bearded hipsters and designer beers) but I think the theme is probably still universal.
Anyway, here it is.
The story and characters in this graphic story are the exclusive IP of the creator and may not be reproduced in any form without the express permission of same.
Well now you are my sun in the morning And my moon at night I think about you baby I feel alright Now my days grow longer ‘Cause my love grows stronger And the fever gets worse And I’ve got the fever for this girl
I think it’s a testament to the enduring allure of true love that people are finding and returning to this blog. Now, I have friends who would (and do) say that it is gauche and egotistical to write about oneself in the assumption that others will find you fascinating enough to read about.
I would probably be inclined to agree with that assessment, but then, I’m not really writing about myself; my subject is love. I don’t believe that there’s very much about me at all that others would find in the least bit compelling. No, I only become interesting in any meaningful way when I am standing inside this ‘bubble’.
Love is the great enhancer; love turns the pauper into a prince, the scrooge into a philanthropist, and the dull man into an interesting subject for a blog – Maybe. Love is that which all seek and fear to loose. Love opens the heart, which is the true center of wisdom, and closes the eyes to doubt and self-loathing.
When true love enters our lives, we are transformed. The dour begin to smile; the fearful find courage, and the abused learn trust. It is the rain returning to the desert and the oxygen mask after the fire. There is no force I know to equal the transformative power of love.
And there is no subject more worthy of a writer’s time. Which is why there are so very many songs, poems, novels and yes, blogs dedicated to the subject. Love is sacred as all trusts are sacred. Love is kind and the foundation stone of every single life.
Some would argue every point I’ve made in this post, but I stand by my words. In fact, the above represents my life’s philosophy. Even when I wasn’t very good at it, I believed in love above all else. Talent is wonderful, creativity is essential, but all things must ultimately give way to love.
Who would even wish to be the most celebrated artist in all the world, but be without love in their life? What would be the use of public accolades if, when you returned home in the evenings, it was to an empty house?
I’m sure some will disagree with that sentiment, but I know Jersey girl wouldn’t. She sympathises completely with my philosophy; how could she not when she herself feels exactly the same way?
Whenever I first tell someone about my unconventional relationship with Jersey girl, I see that look. Even as they are delivering the usual supportive platitudes, behind their eyes and at the corners of their mouths they betray the true dialogue running through their brains.
What they’re really thinking is, I suspect, one of three things; either, why on earth would you bother?Just find someone closer you idiot, or, single mother of three eh, she’s looking for a meal ticket fool, or simply, you’re never going to go be with her, you just like the idea of it.
Look, I can understand all of those perspectives to a degree. The depth to which most people are willing to commit themselves in a ‘loving’ relationship is a remarkably shallow one. In a world where money has been placed at the epicenter of most people’s lives, love, it would seem, is a second rate currency.
You can’t own another person, so for most people, love takes second place to possession. Sometimes we get the two mixed up and all kinds of unpleasantness ensues. This is not such an odd turn of events really. At one time, love took a backseat to simple survival. Back then a good woman was just someone a fella could throw behind him whilst trying to outrun a hungry bear.
That was at least understandable (the survival thing, not the bear thing), but this cult of materialism is simply distasteful. If you want to see how bad it’s getting, just sit in on a few divorce proceedings at your local family court; Mammon in the house.
I take all of this into consideration when I see that look. I get why people don’t get us. They’re too busy looking for the angle.
The truth is neither she nor I ever had a choice about this thing. It began almost of its own volition and despite our better judgement, simply refused to leave us be. This love is a beast with many claws; all of them hooks. There was never any point in struggling against it. To do so would only have torn us both apart.
And we’re totally OK with that.
What would I do for the one I love?
Whatever is required; absolutely without question.
It’s not like I have a choice.
Epicenter: The point on the Earth’s surface directly above the focus of an earthquake.
Image used in this post is my own. Antiquity belongs to the Museum of Art, Princeton University.
I’m aware that, in this brave new world, that is almost a subversive act. In the Era of mass data collection and Big Brother surveillance, people are becoming understandably more circumspect as regards what information they are willing to share online. I can fully appreciate that, it is a very scary thing to know that your most private interactions may be being monitored and transcribed at any given moment.
And yet, here am I laying bare my soul day after day. Am I mad? Perhaps, but I honestly believe that if we let a bunch of faceless bureaucrats & apparatchiks dictate how we live in our own world we may as well not be living at all.
In a world of seemingly endless consumerism and easy sex, it feels as if love is being sucked out the airlock. The simple kiss has lost currency and I can’t remember the last time I saw a couple walking hand in hand. And so, I feel compelled to write about what is real to me, not reality TV real, but true emotions; raw and electric.
Human feelings are a deep well, but a crack has developed and levels are dropping (I strongly suspect post-modernist ‘frackers’ may be the culprits). It falls to those of us who still feel intensely to express our truth at every opportunity.
Love is humanity’s great achievement; it both dwarfs the pyramids of Egypt and soars higher than our highest orbital satellites. When expressed with sincerity, clarity, and passion it can tear down walls and build bridges.
Sex can be great of course, but without love, it is merely OK. The nihilists who have infested and infected our culture would have us believe that we have moved beyond the need for love (particularly romantic love), but the singular truth is we’ve never needed it more.
So yes, I write about love; beautiful, fragile, passionate, and deeply subversive love.
And here you are reading about it, so I guess you’re a subversive too…
Runaway American Dream 