International Kissing Day?
Will Baude is waxing lyrical about International Kissing Day in a series of posts ringing with relentless optimism. The bastard. Any kissing I'd be doing on said 'holiday' (July 6th, if you care) would do nothing but get me in trouble: the only person I'm supposed to be kissing is miles and miles away. Simple because of the Class Maledictorian's one-woman crusade to encourage the holiday in the U.S. I considered posting some piece of curmudgeonly poetry on the nastiness of love, especially when the one you care for's not there.
Damn my flinty, ill-used, barren frozen popsicle of a heart for showing defects in its infernal manufacture: I just can't find it in me. So instead you get the favorite of my poems about kissing, by that wonderful gentleman e. e. cummings.
since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the worldmy blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
--the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which sayswe are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraphAnd death i think is no parenthesis
And while kissing may be a better fate than wisdom, sometimes wisdom just has to suffice. Which is why I heavily recommend to you the comments between two of my good friends in this entry. This is one of the reasons I keep this blog: to listen to a skillful biologist and a thoughtful priest discussing their philosophical differences in a polite and informed manner.