Dopamine, Baby
It's all about the chemicals, y'all. WaPo has a hilarious piece up for Valentine's Day today and you should really read the whole thing.
Bill Shakespeare had it down cold, when he had Friar Laurence warn young Romeo of the perils of passion: "These violent delights have violent ends."And did Romeo listen?
Shucks, no! Wise counsel, patience, foresight, prune juice -- who wants that ? Is there one among us who, at least once in this life, does not want to throw everything out the door and sprint to the Disco Ball of the Brain, where there are big white piles of dopamine, where a hot and sweaty Barry White is always on stage, thumping out "You're My First! My Last! My Everything!" And there's that new girl in class! Scantily clad! She's on the floor, beckoning you! Yes, Bubba, you! Out you go, and she's saying your name and her hand slips to the small of your back, and this is going to last FOREVER AND EVER!
Hot damn I love the Disco Ball of the Brain. Inevitably, though, the high burns out and by the end of the night you find yourself here:
What it feels like: A one-way ticket to the Tex-Mex Border Bar of the Mind. It's always dark in here, stinks of old cigars. The clock on the wall always reads Beer:30. Your caudate nucleus is now slouched over a bar stool in the dark. Sitting next to it is Freddy Fender.Suddenly your brain bellows, off-key:
WASTED DAYS AND WASTED NIGHTS!
Happy V-day, everybody!
Confidential to LS: I hope things work out like you hoped today!