Something tells me that I should be writing about heart shaped arrows being shot into the asses of the unsuspecting victim’s reverie. Dancing cherubs taking in the expunged lust of postulating insecurity.

To think that someone thought to continue that with confections and connections!

Ahhh, the joy of February 14^th!

I slept till noon, went to work and then got home at 11 pm to find Lady asleep and the cats wondering where in the Hell their candy and flowers were! I guess they are pissed that I forgot them when I gave Lady her things yesterday. Cest la vie.

Soft rock could take me there, well, beyond the gifts and chocolates and thongs and perfume and flowers and champagne and sex. I reached a point of amoebic transgression that lead me to Michael McDonald and then I wondered where I should go. I became swirled and twirled around by the lyrics and the movement and that brought me about face to the moment at hand.

Something tells me this is it:

And yes, it was “it”.

Lonely nights looking out the window thinking of Orion’s belt.

Chocolate will only make it sweeter.

Godspeed …