Happy (Insert Blank) Day!

Happy (Insert Blank) Day!

In Arizona, today can be a confusing day.

Yes, it is the day when a number of people revolt against the Hallmark-infused holiday. It’s also a day that single women stand up in arms against the tyranny of marketed romance.

It’s also Arizona’s 100th birthday! Happy B’day, AZ!

retrieved from azcentral.com

So, for those ladies of us living in the state that has the most species of rattlesnakes, the southernmost ski resort, the westernmost Civil War battle, and IMHO, the most frigging beautiful desert and mountain peaks eclipsing 12,000 feet, we lucky lasses can celebrate the birthday rather than being single on Valentine’s Day.

But, my friends, it’s been a secret (except for a very, very small few), but… I… kind of… have… a… valentine.

…. All morning I was at my notes, ferreting through my life records, wondering where to begin, how to make the start, seeing not just another life before me but a life of books. But I don’t begin. The walls are completely bare — I had taken everything down before going to meet you. It is as though I had made ready to leave for good. The spots on the walls stand out — where our heads rested. While it thunders and lightnings I lie on the bed and go through wild dreams. We’re in Seville and then in Fez and then in Capri and then in Havana. We’re journeying constantly, but there is always a machine and books, and your body is always close to me and the look in your eyes never changes. People are saying we will be miserable, we will regret, but we are happy, we are laughing always, we are singing. We are talking Spanish and French and Arabic and Turkish. We are admitted everywhere and they strew our paths with flowers. 
     I say this is a wild dream — but it is a dream I want to realize. Life and literature combined, love the dynamo, you with your chameleon’s soul giving me a thousand loves, being anchored always in no matter what storm, home wherever we are. In the mornings continuing where we left off; resurrection after resurrection. You asserting yourself, getting the rich,  varied life you desire; and the more you assert yourself the more you want me, need me. Your voice getting hoarser, deeper, your eyes blacker, your blood thicker, your body fuller. A voluptuous servility and a tyrannical necessity. More cruel now than before — consciously, willfully cruel. The insatiable delight of experience.


Cafe Termius, Gare St. Lazare
Tuesday night [August 16, 1932]
(as in, Henry Miller – letter written to Anais Nin)

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