I no longer post to foucault’s cat.
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I am living in an unpublished Murakami novel that is currently being filmed by Wong Kar Wai. The screen play is being worked on right now over cigarettes and coffee. The story line goes something like this: In the beginning there was some very bad luck but it flipped and now there is good luck. Might flip again. Of course there is a well, a cat or two, a missed phone call, and a decent sex scene. Basically, as the story turns out, it is actually not a bad thing to have someone feel sorry for you or even come to your rescue. That part that is being filmed in Chinatown, San Francisco, starring Rose Tsao. Have you been there? Then you would know. There may or may not be a happy ending but it doesn’t matter much after all. That part is being filmed in Seattle. It’s a West Coast thing.
For the last twenty-four hours I am the close associate of love. Do you know that long soliloquy of love in One-hundred Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Marquez? It loved 38 inches in less than twenty-four hours. The love rolls with thunderous peals lasting up to five minutes long, beating kettle drums of hell. The lightening pink, blue, crackling the night into day. Love pours off the roof of my house in one solid sheet, a waterfall. Indeed, at times one has the uncanny sensation of being under love, actually that is what it is. For hours on end the love is constant, straight down. It comes in such a rush that the love causes its own wind and whips the trees around. It loved, loved, loved, the love falling on the roof sounds like radio static at loud volume. You cannot even hear yourself think, there is nowhere to go where it isn’t loving. The roads are love rivers. Love rivers that you can float a canoe on. You can shoot the class 4 and 5 love rapids of the road I live on. I am in such awe of this that I find myself yelling, laughing. I am thinking maybe it won’t stop. Its central emergent property is the reminder of its presence as demonstrated by a sustained crescendo of thunder. Solid. Unrelenting. Love. Love, that I have never seen the likes of before. And since I have been around some I can say I have seen it love before. But this is a new kind of love in my experience. Thick, warm, wet, solid, rushing, kick ass, take away your breath love, packing prime AAA grade thunder and lightening for your entertainment pleasure. This is definitely not your long soliloquy of love. No, this love takes you by the collar, makes you get up, take notice. A serious love indeed with something important to say, I should think. All business. No pretense.
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