It’s been over a week since Valentine’s Day, gone are flowers, the chocolates, the expectations. All of it gone. I honestly don’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day though so as it has been a week, I would like to ask you all a question “where is the love?” .
To quote Murakami, love is like “a cat slipping into a whirling washing machine.” “This is something you would never see unless you’ve actually done it,” Murakami writes. “If you feel you wouldn’t want to, or it would be a hassle, then please do not go near a washing machine.” For Murakami then the love is in a basement or kitchen not much visited by students and wildly fantasised about by middle-aged housewives.
Love is something vastly written about but little understood, the Black Eyed Peas line was not a sincere question but an unquestionable lament to the entire species… Maybe. Well it wasn’t. It sounds pretty good and it’s got some Jurassic 5-esque “we’re the good peeps of the streets” vibes going on so they probably didn’t care as to loves location too much.
If they did care they should have just gone to Al Falafels on Friday night and look at the faces of people eating cheesy chips. That’s where the love goes, complete with self-loathing yet undeniable lust for more once they are gone.
Love is something we all know we should feel we are told we must love the children starving and people dying, we must love our neighbour and most importantly unless we find our one true love we have in some way failed at life.
Valentine’s Day takes advantage of all of this, of course people don’t love their neighbour, and of course people don’t love the starving children. As Murakami so wonderfully says love is not something you would wish upon anyone, love is mad and blind and mad blind people rarely make sane lovers. Unless of course you’re the kind of person would like an ear in the mail. In which case… call me?
Valentine’s Day then takes something nearly everyone who has experienced it is resentful about and forces couples to judge each other’s love by throwing dollars at each other like soulless bank CEO’s competing over hookers.
Showing your appreciation shouldn’t be something scheduled and judged but something natural and spontaneous. Like a good fart or a tsunami, or a murdering spree – romantic stuff like that.