This is the world in which we live. There are thrushes singing in the trees. There's a bright, full moon in the sky. There's Nirvana in my CD player. And the object of my obsession is no longer chained to the demon spawn of MTV. The Shock Jock Who Is Not a Shock Jock. The Moose-Humper. Neutered Man.
Drew Barrymore is no longer married to Tom Green and, suddenly, I find the winter air is somehow cleaner. My food tastes a thousand times better. The sun no longer burns my vampire-ish eyes. Even the pain of my freshest emotional scars seems somehow deadened by these happy tidings. And, as I sit here, typing these words, I realize that it truly is the season. That we humans should set aside our petty disputes and bask in the glow of Light and Sound and Beauty.
Ah, Beauty.
Yet, in my darker moments, this victory (if that's what it truly is) feel's bitter sweet. It's a sad thing, when love dies, and we all know the pain of a loved one's departure. I suppose this should be a time of sad, introspective mourning, not jubilant celebration.
But, then again...Jesus Christ, it's Tom Green. Big freakin' loss. Let the nutless wonder go off and hump a mouse and never be heard from again.
In case you hadn't figured it out, I have a less-than-healthy obsession with Miss. Barrymore. If you really want to know, it's her chin that gets me. And her lips. And her butterflies. Gotta love those butterflies.
Of course I know how dangerous celebrity worship can be. How can I do what I do and not know the dangers of it? But we all need a little obsession in our lives. So I believe. Something to keep the cold away. Something to make the stars shine. Something to make us all wax poetically on our personal websites.
Something to make us smile.
And, Light, just look at those eyes.
--1:5:01