Which do you like better?
The Band of Horses original?
Posts under ‘Lurve/Luff/Like’
The problem with coming back…
Is that first walk up to you, my face growing more familiar with each step. I look different, but not much. The circumstances and lighting are most of it.
It’s autumn now. It’s been months. How has it been months? What have I been doing?
And it’s always nothing. I was sad sometimes and crazy, chest-thumpingly happy other times. But mostly I was just normal. That sounds disappointing, but it wasn’t. I hardly noticed nothing amazing was happening to me.
This message has been approved by Woody Allen
This weekend, I abruptly stopped smooching someone and said, “Wait. Does your therapist know about this?”
He said no and pulled my mouth back to his. I pulled away.
“Maybe you should tell her about me,” I said.
Lie the fuck down, my darling
Adam Mansbach’s picture book Go the Fuck to Sleep is the perfect bedtime story. For parents or annoyed babysitters, that is.
And who better to read it than Samuel L. Jackson?
In the event that you break up with your muse…
…you might want to consider this passage from Patti Smith’s wonderful memoir, Just Kids.
Where does it all lead? What will become of us? These were our young questions, and young answers were revealed.
It leads to each other. We become ourselves.
For a time Robert protected me, then was dependent on me, and then possessive of me. His transformation was the rose of Genet, and he was pierced deeply by his blooming. I too desired to feel more of the world. Yet sometimes that desire was nothing more than a wish to go backward where our mute light spread from hanging lanterns with mirrored panels. We had ventured out like Maeterlinck’s children seeking the bluebird and were caught in the twisted briars of our new experiences…
He too had a path to pursue and would have no choice but to leave me behind.
We learned we wanted too much. We could only give from the perspective of who we were and what we had. Apart, we were able to see with even greater clarity that we didn’t want to be without each other.
What you call love is just urgency
What you call love is just urgency.
What you call love is a place you turn in an emergency.
Would you give up when it’s not what you want it to be?
Well that’s not love, what you call love.
Agree or no?
I have mixed feelings, but I like the song.
Something Borrowed made me something blue
Today I went to the movies near Lincoln Center and saw the romantic comedy Something Borrowed. It’s based on a book series I won’t ever read.
This was for a review I’m writing. Usually, I go to screenings a few weeks before a movie hits theaters, but this one’s already out. So I had to go to one of the ticket machines and pay my admission. If anyone had been there to judge, I might have wanted to say, “I’m getting paid to do this. I wouldn’t see this movie of my own volition.”
I wouldn’t have said it, but I might have wanted to.
The theater was full of women and sensitive Jewish men who will see anything with their women. I found a good seat right in the middle, two seats down from this women who was also there alone. She was eating a sandwich she’d brought from a deli and had four or five shopping bags around her seat.
I felt an instant connection to her.
My heart goes click, click, click
Now this is an anniversary present:
More to love
Last year, I spent Valentine’s Day on a really awkward date with a French guy.
And oui, I wrote about it. (Warning: contains jokes about French people):
I knew very little about him. His name was Arthur. He was from France. And I’d deemed him tall and literate enough to engage with on the Internet.
I stood in front of the travel books facing the wall. I didn’t expect much from this date—besides an alcoholic buzz. But who knows? Maybe he’d be really cute and charming and accented .
He wasn’t. Well, not cute. I was hoping for Olivier Martinez. He was more Gérard Depardieu. I know this makes me sound like some hick from a town that serves freedom fries with its hamburgers, but I was shocked he wasn’t better dressed. It turns out, French people do get fat.
Yeah, I know. I’m kind of mean. But New York Press put me in my place by putting the words “Desperate for a Valentine’s Day date, AMANDA GREEN…” on its cover that week. And that’s all I needed to see. “Desperate.” My full name.
Arthur, you win.
“I love you” in a song
You already know nothing gets my foot tapping like a heart-wrenching song about love lost. The best thing about breakups is the music.
But there’s something to be said for love songs. Sure, they have a harder time standing out - many are vapid and not about the enduring companionship you actually need to maintain a relationship.They’re like songs.
It’s Valentine’s Day, though, and I want to share 10 of my favorite love songs. Caveat: I left out many that are amazing. I mean, I could’ve just had a catalog of Etta James tunes.
And interestingly enough, many of the singers responsible for my favorite love songs also sang some of my favorite breakup songs. Perhaps for the same person, no?
