. . . unable to love.
And yet . . . I am still able to collect little plastic people with an array of accessories, weapons, helmets, and different heads molded into different expressions.
I can form my little plastic people into rival armies.
I sit on one side of the table, and issue commands. My army charges into glory!
I get up, move to the other side of the table, sit down, and issue commands to the rival army. My rival army charges into glory!
The trick is that I give really fucked-up sets of orders to both of the armies so they can never exactly win the war, but they can sure keep the action going long and strong, with lots of casualties and deaths and vendettas and all sorts of lovely memories.
Really . . . I’m doing okay.
In fact . . . love strikes me as totally obsolete when measured against my sublime hobby.
So . . . like . . . Happy Day!
