In all of my vast experience, all 18 years of it, i've found that the usual association of love with the heart is untrue. We shouldn't be sending out "hearts" on valentines day...we should be sending out stomachs!

It's often said that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but there's more to it than that. When you like someone, your bowels fill with this evil sense of forboding, a flubberty-gubbet feeling of uneasiness. It's not until the situation is resolved that your stomach calms its ceaseless churning and finally lets you finish lunch. But then there's also the negative side. When you go through a bad break up, its the stomach thats gets all twisted up. You eat too little or too much. You vomit or have nausea.

So in fact it's not the heart but the stomach that is the source of all love emotions.

Everyone admires the monument: no one admires the workers
cursing, swearing, scratching, bitching, cutting hands bloody,
like a reminder: remember, you are mortal.

No one admires the mortal: they admire the sweet, the easy
the beautiful. The mixing of mortar is not a sacrament, the
bloody afterbirth is to be buried. From a distance, we admire
the marketing materials.

With my hair up, in a shining dress, I am lovelier than a monument, sacred
and bloody-minded. From my lips spill the praise song of workers
scratching their asses
living something more real
than all the monuments of the world.

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