 
Skewtoons by Jack's buddy James Allen |
 Jack Jameson upon Love Part 1 (as in
there will be more) There are those who believe love conquers all. To them, I exclaim, "horseshit!" To them, I advise seeking out some attorney specializing in divorce and asking them about the "power" of love. Sure, love can get you incredibly, dangerous-fashion drug high and make you a better person, but then there's this hangover that may follow, and then the pendulum swings the other way. Intelligent, educated, fashionable people with a seemingly tenacious hold upon morality can stumble upon a dark, psychotic side of their personality if they find themselves being love's chump. Perhaps you're saying to yourself, "oh, Jack E boy, you must've had that cold heart of yours stepped on pretty hard to maintain such a perspective on the greatest thing life has to offer." No. I won't lie, I've felt the sting of love, who hasn't? It's watching these ignorant fucks go about not knowing what they're doing, young babies toying with the deadliest bull, thinking that reality ends with "happily ever after." Well, fairy tale time is over. Let me get my name brand beverage & tell you what it is. All right, now previously, I've alluded to Texas as being one of those "please fuck with me" states. California begs the same. Ever noticed how Californians aren't happy anywhere but California? You catch an inhabitant of California outside their state, and they're bigger whiners than those Christian fucks in third world countries. It's a big world, and Cali's a small place compared. When it comes to this love, most people act like Californians: they whine & bitch & moan about not being there. To them, it's a place, not a state of mind. To them, it's something tangible, something provided for them in a surrounding form, an environment if you will, and all they have to do is water the lawn. This state of mind that Californians think they've a monopoly on is easy to find, that unbelievable sober bliss that can't believe what life's conceived, but I say, "Humbug!" It happens all of my days. I bring it with me, fuck all those others! Life's my good time. Just take your party with you, it's not much easier than that (your party is your own good time, and here's a news flash: the sign is at your control, you're at the wheel of your own good time, you always have been, so quit ignoring the fucking wheel & drive!). This love is a similar item, a state of mind. It changes with us as we change. We can't leave and come back, and some long trek won't take us there. If you think so, your fate lies within the end of Grapes of Wrath. I've also alluded to the pop culture version of love. I know that this is at the root of all our heartfelt troubles. It goes deep and long in our persons. All those pop songs about love drilled so far into our heads that the aching from it's own echos can never be silenced. It's history goes back further than historians can take us. Shakespeare is as guilty as James Cameron, and I can't tell you how I hate to compare those two fucks. One, a master of literature. The other, may place his bullshit Oscar far inside his ass. Fuck those pretentious awards and the pricks that surround them! Like love, we give them far too much attention and credit. But that comes later, now we're on this thing. Look, people have been writing anything (poems, stories, cave etchings) to get themselves laid since the beginning of time. We writers just don't have the patience to learn guitar, so here we are. Am I writing to get laid? Well, if she's my type, I wouldn't turn it down. Condolences if the honesty shocks you, but I'm not here to write flowers upon your hair. There are some that maintain that all, and I mean all stories are contained within 36 formulas, or basic plots. Others say that novels are in 1 of 2 forms: someone goes on a journey, or a stranger comes to town. Either way, it seems that there are those in our society useless enough to find a thesis, dissertation, or college major in proving that originality is dead, buried, decomposed, and so long gone that the maggots and plants that found life in it are dead. What I'm getting at is that the pop culture love romance thing is . . . is . . . IS formulized. As much as it makes you swoon, it's all bullshit. Pop romance is emotional pornography, no more. It's something that someone else made for yet another party, to get them in the sack, or better yet, to get unlimited amounts of their preferred gender in the sack. Noble, no. True, yes. These people are experts, mark my word. They've received the lessons passed down by countless bards, and their lessons are no secret. When you find that a movie, book, poem, song, piece of spam, or whatever . . . a fucking soda commercial . . . is so damn sentimental, and speaks to you and your heart only, then ask yourself, "why is it mass-produced?" Because as human beings, we're pretty much the same, . . . we like to feel special, and we kinda sorta have the same fucking thing in common with each other that we'd like said or done to us. It's time to eat our vegetables, kids, and realize that we're not all so special, and none of us are Cupid's favorites. Sorry, folks. Truth=hurt, I know. We all wish it simply was not true. As you can see, you cannot trust the pop culture love romance bullshit that is more than fed to us, it's shoved down our throats. So, un-wash your brain. You wanna know what romance is? You wanna know what love is? It's when they gets the door for you when all their friends are around. It's when they kisses you when you haven't shaved. Friends are going to give'em a rash of shit about being "whipped" which is about the most humiliating thing to hear for someone to hear from peers, to be acknowledged as completely submissive and without will. It's when that one is gonna risk face burn to let you know that you're the world. These little things are it. If you need more, then you're a spoiled fucking brat, and life's gonna be tough for you. Enjoy your countless divorces, hope your kids forgive you from rehab, before their divorces commence. It's easy folks: the little things & your best friend. Enjoy those little things, that's romance and love and all of it blended together, and it's beautiful. Those little things that they don't have to do, but they do. We owe them more than we receive them. Remember that. We forget more of what we receive than remember what we've given. It's easy to do, and I know because I've seen myself do it, too. Very easy to take things for granted, it is. In fact, I think society pushes us to do so, and this is a shame. It's why people don't vote. So focused on our own little lives, we are, that if something doesn't affect us directly, it doesn't matter, and it doesn't exist, and this is sad. Pain and strife within these noble cultures that move all over the world, and we fret if our clothes are out of fashion. Cursed fashion. How is fashion always there to distract us when things of importance are always happening? I blame that goddamn media! That's the bottom line, people: don't look to fashion, don't look to old literature, don't look to modern pop culture, look deep within to find the answer. When your heart, soul, and mind agree, then there's the answer.
But you know what I have to say in the chosen circle with me? This is not some secret group, but it's the people who have a real shred of heart left. You know that when you tangle with love, you gotta tangle with 2 waving fists in the air, but you gotta give every bit of yourself up, too. If you wanna love hard, you gotta be ready. I'm not talking about playin', playan's easy! Yeah, playin' easy, prude easy. What's hard is finding that perfect edge, nice and sharp, and riding it. You've got no idea what I'm talking about? Hard lovin'. Shiiiiiit, I hope you never do. The thing about love, is that you can make a tool of love,
or love can make a tool of you. How do I come up with this shit?
And have I stressed the "don't fuck to love, love to fuck"
enough? That's a loaded statement, and if you grapple with it,
you'll see what I mean. All of love's trappings, it really takes
a little mastering, but it's very easy to get sold along the
way. Love is similar to God, we need it, we wrestle with it,
we never fully understand it, sometimes we don't even believe
in it, but you should make your peace with it. I could go on
and on, & I think I will, but some other time . . .
end 11/2k Jack Jameson: Enemy of Fashion Jack Jameson is Moody Jack Jameson's Latest! |
content copyright 2000 the author
art copyright 2000 skewed perspective