Love is a myth. A description of hopeful pheromones tweaking hormones. We use it to describe that ineffable attraction we have to another. Soon though, the mundane destroys it. The cute quirks become irritations. The unforgivable thoughtlessness adds up. The toilet seat left up, the bra drying on the shower curtain rod become emotional battle lines.

Can we survive the myth? Can we transcend the myth? Can we acknowledge our flawed humanity and find solace in friendship without romantic expectation. Can that partnership we call "love" grow to a deep and abiding partnership, us against the hardships throws at us? Can we be one another's bulwark against the pain and suffering that life is?

Because love is not hearts and flowers. It's mopping up the effluvium of our mistakes. It's not twisting the knife in an argument you may lose. It's an apology when you least expect it. It's knowing when to remain silent.

Can we do away with our romantic notions of what two people can share? Should we?

There's something fantastic about a woman's curves. Sharp curves, shallow curves, they're nice, no? Ah, the shape of a woman's shoulders, the hollow of a woman's collar bone, her clavicle, mmm, yeah. Is there anything as beautiful? I suppose that depends on your mood.

Remember punk? Or is it "Punk"? Remember the late 70s, early 80s? I'm not talkin' about Sesame Street and Transformers. Do you remember the music scene, what was going on in the arts?

There was an aspect of Punk, a splinter, if you will, that embraced an aesthetic that rejected conventional beauty. Even eschewed it.

You saw it in the gritty graphics of album cover art and band flyers. And you saw it in fashion, at least on the street.

Ever see that Twilight Zone episode Eye Of The Beholder?

"Now the questions that come to mind. Where is this place and when is it, what kind of world where ugliness is the norm and beauty the deviation from that norm? The answer is, it doesn't make any difference. Because the old saying happens to be true. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, in this year or a hundred years hence, on this planet or wherever there is human life, perhaps out among the stars. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Lesson to be learned... in the Twilight Zone."

For me there was a certain hope in this aesthetic. I felt ugly. I hoped that conventional beauty would get knocked down a peg or two. To my advantage.

But I was ambivalent too. After all, I'd seen a lot of ugliness in my life. Poverty is not pretty, who wants more of that?

In the end, though, Ken and Barbie won out. Same as it ever was.

Whoowee! That show sure was fun. All hail TsuShiMaMiRe! They rocked, did they not? Oh yeah! Ooh, Yayoi is teh sexxxy, neh? Mari autographed my arm. See my pics.

Yup. An' the SG girls... well, let's just say them are some fine lookin' wimmns. Yes indeed. Yassuh.

Been onna trip down memory lane this weekend. All Joy Division, all the time. It's dark down that lane. Whoa. Got Colony and These Days runnin' through my head, Barney's guitar riffs tearing through my mind as auditory hallucinations.

Yeah, every rock show I go to is like going back in time to the 80s. 'Cept back then, hardly anybody had tattoos. Now, even your grandma has a tattoo. Heh.

Okaybye.

God, this whole "Request Friendship" thing is so humiliating. Both here, and on MySpace. I mean, it's like going and asking people out, but more ambiguous. Am I interested in you "in that way", or do I just think you're cool or interesting? You have to count on the other person not taking offense, or being genuinely open.

This is not something I have to deal with in the real world. I make friends easily. In fact, I have more friends than I can comfortably manage, what with my addiction to solitude.

I easily become enthralled by others. I see someone, and I think, wow, he or she is awesome, and I like them. But don't cross me, I'll cut you off like a gangrenous limb, tout de suite.

Will you be my friend?

You know those band pictures where the whole band is standing there looking at the camera with a mixture of solemnity and surliness? Or the hip-hop groups who are just plain surly. I hate that shit. I'm so sick and tired of seeing that. Yeah, you guys are a rock band, not a pack of mercenaries. And the rappas, yo, why you always gotta look like you a thug? A real man, a confident man, don't need to exude menace all the time.

%$&*@! I must be the oldest person on this damn site! Where're the cool wimmins my age? Yeah, I know, married with children. Or divorced and bitter. And long ago given up their dreams for money and security. Pffft!!!

I guess piercings are cool. I prefer tats. I kinda like tongue and nipple piercings, but my experience with piercings is that they get in the way during sex. Only thing I don't like are those big spacers in the ears. Man, how's that gonna look when yer 50?