Like the cling clang King of the rim ram room

By the time the credits started rolling after "Leaving Las Vegas," I started to think about love. That powerful emotion and how devoid of it I am.

Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to my love life? I mean, it didn't just evaporate. Sure, there were a few bangs here and there, but come on, nothing is more depressing than this.

This.

This lonely shell. Valentine's Day has come and gone and all I got to show for is an empty bottle of booze. Fuck.

"Get out," my friends tell me. "Go outside," they say. Yeah, what, clubbing?

But it did get me pondering on love. All my friends are falling into it faster than Flash. Cheap comparison, to be sure. One guy is getting married. One guy is recuperating from disaster and healing through love. One guy is enjoying his weekends doing...yeah who?

And then there's me. Not gay. LOL. Haven't found the right one, or at least, Miss right now.

So I opened a bottle of Wild Turkey and watched "Leaving Las Vegas." Why didn't Elisabeth Shue win that Oscar? Speaking of which, what the fuck happened to Elisabeth Shue? Geez. Girl had it.

Like Mira Sorvino. WTF happened to her?

Love to me is one of those things that just sort of happens. It happens to everyone. You will be smoking a cigarette, make some dumb comment to a girl that is passing by and like Madden says, boom, you're buying IKEA bed sheets and silk white ties. And going karaokeing when nobody else is going.

Fuck!

While I'm not fond of karaoke, I can see the connection. Doing something together. I miss that. I miss picnicks and walks in the Forest Preserve. I miss flashlight knocks on the window from cops who are asking "What are you doing?" and I miss steamed up windshields and late night sandwiches.

But most of all, here's what I miss: Doing it together. Not in the literal sense, but in the figurative one.

Sure I'll have another shot. It's time to put on Smooth Criminal.