February 17th, 2007



Never get someone’s name tattooed on your body, so the common knowledge goes. Because all love affairs turn sour, and you will be left like Johnny Depp with “Wino Forever” marked on your arm. The tattoo will be a constant reminder of the failure of your love.


I had a friend in college who broke up with his fiancée. “Bummer,” I sympathized.


“No, it’s ok,” he said, “she was a bitch. I never liked her.”


Excuse me? Never liked her? This was the same friend who used to tell us of his upcoming wedding plans. The two of them had picked out names for their future children. Every weekend he blew us off to be with his precious girlfriend. And now he says he never liked her?


I think that if you are in a relationship for more that four years, you should have the name of your partner permanently etched on your body somewhere. Ideally on your forehead. Along with the dates of the relationship and how long it lasted. This would serve as a notice to future boyfriends – they could avoid the people with several names crossed out, or warn if the target just got out of a ten year relationship. Having no names would mean something, too.


After all, your heart was permanently marred, so your body should be too.

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I came across this essay by George Orwell called "The Road to Wigan Pier". Commission in the 1930s by a Socialist book club, Orwell described what it is like working in a coal mine of the time, and the living conditions and lifestyles of the miners.

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