February the 14th

The clock strikes 12, and the second hand unwinds... A second past the 13th of February, a second into the 14th of February... It's that time and day again... The time when I am casted out of this society where I once belonged...

I think the world will be out, people in twos... Coupling the apologue of this thing called love. In the tribute to this one man that made fruition to cross cultural and status love. A sacrosanct bond that transcends all condemnation, disapprobation and religious barriers... Yet I live in this ironic loneliness of high density living in a culture of strangers and social affectation.

We buy the plastic hearts because they symbolise the replica polyacrylic nature of our poignant lives. We smile on cue, swoon at the appropriate moment, simper and furrow with whatever sincerity we can muster. We go through the motions of humanity, the gears that made us love... Replicating romantic ideals, like those right out of a korean or japanese drama.... Like every good android should, we obey the principal matrix that media has programmed onto us...

Because that's what we are. Casted in the image of women and men - We are robots winding down at the end of all history. Yearning for a time when everything meant anything. When we could finally ignore the logical drives that has made us, us... When ignorance let us believe in love as a transcendent quality instead of an evolutionary device or an all too temporary psychosomatic affliction.

Plastic hearts and dead flowers. Fatty carbs and casual sex. Sacrifices to a dead saint on the altar of consumerism. If ever we needed a punchline to this joke we call the human condition - This is it:

Happy Valentine's Day.