Thursday, February 14, 2008
this is from a very aged, overly ripened journal that now has a thick layer of mold and teenage angst weighing down its pages. circa 2002, a very fine year. i was 18, and just as bitter then as i am now. how refreshing!
Tuesday, February 12th, 2002
on the thought of roses, flowers, chocolates, love, hearts, cards, bitterness, nausea, and some minor fatigue....
...the day of romance approaches!
one supposed story of valentine speaks of him as a christian doomed to die in a coliseum. before he was sent off to be torn to shreds by lions and gladiators, he wrote a love letter. the catholic church (in conjunction and partnership with hallmark and Trojan condoms) made him a saint, although with a name like "valentine" he most likely was writing to his sweetheart Brutus which is a most uncatholic thing to do and therefore very much to my own approval.
this v day im off to baby sit the little boy that puked on me last sunday. after disinfecting myself, i do however intend to twirl around my own bed room in a truly sensational lacey getup while adorned by a beaded crown ive had since the 4th grade and high heels from my 8th grade semi formal...this shall be initiated by the playing of abba's "dancing queen" and other various romantic compilations. possibly some divinyls in the mix as well.
the mere thought of myself doing that is the perfect thing to ruin any passionate and amorous expectations and desires that myself (or other unfortunates reading this entry) have of this day to come. it's a step above drinking alone and sobbing to your cat, but after the imagery presented above, you just might find yourself one rung higher on the proverbial ladder of self deprivation.
drink deeply friends and happy, happy humping.
copyright elizabeth bollenberg, all rights reserved 2008