What the F is love anyway, I quipped clutching my belongings in disarray--all of what is left of them. That was before the Biblical flood, when God brandished the whip and said: all of you are equally situated, well at least before the rich and those in the middle ransacked the groceries for their own selfish considerations. There is indeed no Section 1, Article III in the Bible. I was stripped and reduced to bare skeletons. Love does that for you, or at least all of one’s pretensions of love do that for you with the consistency of acid and the euphony of curses and invocations of ill-will. Another claims me for good and for the rest of my depleted humanity. I was reeling romantic anew and in good measure. What the F is love anyway; nobody can tell you so. I can. Knock at my door. I’ll throw you a stare and point to the moon burning in soft glow and a heightened sense of fidelity and endless reverence. I did.
dude saying "F" is so wimpy/gay, go all out like Salinger.
ReplyDeleteAnon, was actually giving caulfield a break here considering that the blogosphere now abounds with full fys. I tend to use the full fys when there are hurdles to do so and I refrain when the platform does not forbid. Thanks anon.
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