Valentine’s Day was really good. I went to a party with over a dozen single people. I had crafted my line beforehand:
If I wasn’t here, I would probably be in bed by now-
like last night
and all this year…
We brought poems to share, and I shared mine from 1986:
He fancies himself in Love,
when in truth it is infatuation
not with a face but a remembering
not with a mind but with a picture
drawn by wish on the blank canvas of ignorance
not with a woman, but with Woman,
or the fulfilment of a need
Oh, when I see, what do I see-
another, or a part of me?
Bitter notes of unrequited love seemed appropriate. And this one. I drank a bit, saw friends, had some deep conversations. Sunday we went to Gone Girl, a women’s film- I sympathise with the female lead, and love her effectiveness in carrying out her plans. The most distressing thing on screen was the end of the trailer of Star Wars Episode VII: More of the Same which revealed to me it will be released in December, so that we will suffer trailers until then. In Leicester Square the sun shone, a man stripped to the waist entertained a crowd, and a puppeteer made a skeleton dance to jolly Elvis songs.