Hello Again

Hello again. I apologize to you, faithful reader, if you do indeed exist. I've been wondering what blogging would be like while having a following. Maybe it would feel more like a job, more like a real thing. Solid. Tangible. With real, virtual people interacting all the time. It doesn't seem to be that way now, but I don't mind. Your reward for stumbling upon this here website is something I just wrote yesterday. I hope it does serve as a reward.
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It would seem that after many thousands of years of progress (or at least gleaming inventions) that we, the human race of homo sapien lore and antiquity, would have stored away enough sense to do away with that preposterous emotion known most popularly as love. Yes, love. Sappy, sentimental, cinematic, and perpetually original in its own right. You most likely know of it already. If you don't, I'm not willing to become your tutor in the matter, not because I know too little of it, but because I'm tired of wrapping it up tight with shimmering and effeminate lace that looks fitting only because societal discernment has painted it as such. Don't believe me? Is my writing of this piece gaining me any shred of masculinity? No. Please admit that. Lust is masculine, as is detachment. That's what they say, anyway. Nonetheless, persons of all kinds love. Or perhaps only the young ones do truly, though even they are learning well the art of cutting ties. I apologize for my earliest statement. We, the human race, of creative stupidity, are in fact well on our way to eliminating love, that most inconvenient emotion. This news will ring well to the self-proclaimed romantics, that is, if it can be rightfully called news. Call it a bulletin instead, almost a warning, but I wouldn't want to be the wet blanket of this wondrous party, so kindly stop at bulletin. However, the way of parties includes an eventual finale, which is a not-at-all-grand hurrah preceding morning, and, naturally, the hangover. This message has turned rather ugly, and for the record was not at all intended to sound negative. In my defense, it flowed here on its own current, so to speak. I end, as always, with the last word, which happens to be this: the few, the soulful, and not the masses, as has been found, continue to love for the simple reason that love is the most beautiful of possible mistakes, and that is enough.