"Hear it? Hell, I can see the motherfucker!"

I have been makin' a mix (checkin' it twice!) this afternoon. I was reminded yet again how Yo La Tengo's album, "I can hear the heart beating as one" is a weirdly bold proclamation, in as cynical a milieu as modern music, of how the artists involved still believe in love. This is bold stuff, indeed. The album nicely encapsulates how it is full of wonder, yet also full of lies, and hesitation, and even the hostage/hostage taker dynamic. I agree, oh gawd how I agree. But also (in the most beautiful song on the album, the instrumental "Green Arrow"), there are moments of pure transcendance. Nothing else matters except for that moment, and it's the entire world, and yet it's just something happening inside your brain (amongst other places).
As I have said elsewhere; love is an abstract concept-a fiction, even-that nonetheless ruins lives left and right. It's all that's worth continuing on for, but it's a lie, or at very least a misinterpretation of basic biological urges. It makes the world go round, to hear a lot of people tell it, unlike sublimated anger or misuse of allocated funds, both of which strike me as more likely candidates. But I believe in it too, and oddly, this explains why I have been such a pain in the ass to so many that have cared about me.
Hmm...May be too large a topic to engage in at this moment. Portland is too damn small a town, as has been said way too many times before, and I want to be able to explain the above clearly. Ahem. For my feat of cookery this eve, I believe that I shall take the various parmesans, reggianatos and cave-aged gouda cheeses that I have been aging further (as an experiment), grate them, then take somewhere in the neighborhood of six egg whites, whip 'em up with dill and a bit of Pico Pica sauce, add the salmon I baked off last night, and some onion caramelized in bacon grease, and create a fucking masterpiece. The capper is that the resultant mix will go in the microwave. Yes: just like McDonald's does it. This is to give it that infusion of oxygen, as the cellular structure of the dish oscillates, that will cause it to puff up beyond all belief. I might add some tomato or asparagus, too.
Whazzat? Okay. The fact that I have always allowed my romantic entanglements to be the primary focus of my life has made me a functionally insane person for most of it. It makes me oblivious to all else when it works, and a basket case when it does not. It has caused me to be excessively distant when I thought that that was what she wanted (and was incorrect), and too damn lovey-dovey when they were just looking for someone to fuck, for a little while. It has caused me, on too many historically recorded occasions, to shit where I emotionally eat, and be every bit the spoiled child that I hate to see other people being, and when I get mad at the whole thing, I destroy worlds.
Is there a way to make this thing-that-doesn't-exist-but-we-all-need work? Well, it doesn't help that everyone else is just as irrational on this subject as I am. Even if it does work, it's not the right time, or they're just too damaged, and know better than to let anyone else into their particular zoo at this moment, or they are just batshit crazy, but you don't get to be privy to that knowledge until you've spent a representative amount of time with them. Or you love each other, but the sex is crap. Or the sex is back-breakingly good, but you don't have any interest in each other as people whatsoever, but you want it to continue, so you stick around and wait for the trainwreck.
Ahh...Look, here's where I stop. I gotta eat something. Discuss.