Saturday, April 19, 2008

Fermented for 21 Years...and Still Fermenting

I have been living for 21 virgin, untouched, carnally unassailable, years on wanton grounds called Earth. Feeling love, in terms very well known by many, towards anyone has never been and never was...but I do wish it would crash down on me like a giant meteor that extinguished the dinosaurs, but that will serve to blast into smithereens the gigantic cardiac iceberg that has long been the reason for my emotional hypothermia.

If, given the erotically favorable circumstance, I was able to break free from the shackles of physical isolation towards L-O-V-E, would I find someone that could read it for me perfectly? I can just only spell, but hearing and feeling the perfect articulation from that dear-someone-else can make all the difference to me for all of heaven knows.

Now this is where it gets complicated--I wanted perfect articulation. I guess that's why until now I am still single--the last sabertooth among the more agile, actively reproducing, voraciously "meat-eating", tigers of the modern world.

I know, you wouldn't care much about all my blabber here, coated with lexical aphorisms, euphemisms and charms. So to end my first-rate classified grievance, I will tell you my perfect solution (and now herein comes once again the problem).

I wanted to create a person whose personality I made myself--whose abilities, interests, intellectual capacity, and most importantly, the level of sensitivity, I've decided on that person's behalf. A designer lover, that's as close as I can approximate the entity that could shed light on my life lived behind the eclipse of unfortunate solitude. I am not trying to be controlling. Manipulation is the last thing that I wanted to do. I don't want someone loving me because there are strings attached. Like everyone else, I guess, the idea that love should be desired and willful is also what I desirously want to believe in. So to reconcile making a designer lover--or a dreamlover I should say-- and at the same time not playing god, I would like to forget that I designed the person's being after all--forgetting through MIB's special pen-red light effect, or with Harry Potter's wand, whichever, whatever.

With this, I absolve myself from accusatory remarks, especially those that might come from myself that could painfully nag at my love-worthiness forever.