Love, Love, Love (Blah, Blah, Blah)

i was outside smoking, while trying to think back to being in love. i don't like drawing loving doodles without imagining the way they felt. i know it sounds cliché, but i think it's important to at least do the justice of imagining myself in love before drawing out someone elses moment.

this doodle was supposed to be a woman running toward her marine boyfriend after his three-month boot camp training. one of those moments where everyone else disappears and it's just the two of them being ridiculous and in love.

the problem is i've been a cold and bitter man this past year. like a refrigerated bar of soap with a penis.


thinking about love does weird things to my head.

whenever i go back to my most recent adventures in love, i find myself furious. thinking about its start and end reminds me of how i felt when i found out the jetpack in the rocketeer was not real-- except 49x worse. to think you've found someone who "gets" you, only to find out they probably get you even less than the average stranger is a horrible feeling.

it probably bothers me more than it should at this point. and it was a good half my fault anyway.

then after that passed, i thought blankly about love and the way i might best draw the marine. would he be wearing his hat, would it be in his hand, or would it just be flying off his head because he's running so fast toward her?


and i suddenly remembered my first love.

once, she got a speeding ticket trying to get from chico to san jose to see me. and when we finally were in the same city, she parked her car and we started walking toward each other quickly.

but something about the world was strange. it seemed like maybe the sidewalk wasn't moving beneath my feet as quickly as it needed to be. and i realized it was because walking wouldn't do it. i needed her immediately: i had to run.

we both ran and when we met, our chests slammed together like two football players being manly. we kissed for nine years, while holding each other as tight as two slices of bread might hold each other in a squashed grilled cheese sandwich.

i'm glad i remembered that feeling. it's nice to, occasionally, not hate love.

and then, just before i was done with my cigarette, i noticed the passing cars were slowing down. at first i thought they were looking for an address, but when i saw the scantily clad silhouette approaching i knew why they were slowing.

three or four cars passed by, each slowing down to see this mini-skirted glittery spectacle.

but of everyone there, i was the only one with the visual vantage point to recognize this streetwalker as a man.

actually, a boy. perhaps a seventeen year-old tranny.

usually transvestites don't make their way so far up the hill, but she was definitely a he.

i finished my smoke, thought again about love, then the tranny, and then went back inside.

love is weird. san francisco is weird. and i am really only qualified to draw one of the two.

...but please vote for my threadless drawing and i'll marry you.