Love Letter Day 17.
Love makes the world go around (Deon Jackson). I’m uncomfortable with the idea that a kiss can save the universe (e.g. The Matrix, The Fifth Element). Like, really? Some skinny white bishh can just kiss someone and fix everything? Would you believe it if I weren’t white? If I weren’t skinny? If I weren’t a girl and you weren’t a boy?
It’s just another sad love song, racking my brain like crazy (Toni Braxton). I’m much more keen on the tragic depictions of the Kiss failing to defeat Time. West Side Story, Last Night, Lovers of the Arctic Circle.
Why is the measure of love loss (Jeanette Winterson). Timing is everything. Time wins. Every time. Beats love to a pulp. KO.
Love is giving what you don’t have to someone who doesn’t want it (Jacques Lacan). I can’t discount the power of prepossession, the indisposition of my whole mind focused on you. Some would ask me to let the body speak. I would. I do. That’s why I don’t believe a kiss can save the universe. I kiss my son a thousand times a day. That is our prayer. All it does is protect him.
I don’t like you, but I love you (The Miracles). As I’ve said before, the word love has colonized the various feelings inside my our heads—obsession, fraternity, filial piety, maternal affection, affection for material effects. I don’t like it.
If you remember me, I don’t care if anyone else forgets (Haruki Murakami). Memory is love. Do you think of me?
Money can’t buy you love (Ralph Tresvant). My father is the only person not sad anymore about his failure at succeeding in life as an entrepreneur. That is either some kind of love as mourning on our part as supporting cast members in his weird nightmare, or love as the forgiving of one’s self.
What is love? (Haddaway) Baby, don’t hurt me.
Post-Script: I’m humbly soliciting donations for the rest of this month. If you’re enjoying these love letters, please consider donating to one of the following organizations I serve. They deserve love, too.